The Long Way to Ao Nang (Lemons and Lemonade)

ONE LAST-MINUTE DECISION LEADS TO ANOTHER

It all started when I spontaneously purchased a plane ticket to Myanmar. It was Tuesday evening, and the flight was to leave from Bangkok 48 hours later. That same evening, I bought an overnight bus ticket to Bangkok so I can make it in time for the flight. I was under the impression that Canadians could get visas on arrival at the airport Yangon. To my disappointment, during that same chaotic evening, a friend told me that tourist visas are not granted on arrival. I did some research, only to find out she was right—only business and transit visas can be granted on arrival in Myanmar (with the required documentation and such). I would have to get a visa in Bangkok, and would not likely get it in time for my flight.

And so I found myself with a round trip ticket to a country I would not be able to enter, a bus ticket to Bangkok, and less than a day to figure it all out.

These are lemons, and I really like lemonade.

I decided to switch my flight to a later date ($17 fee for the change…whatever), and resolved to go down to Bangkok anyway to get my visa. Here’s the lemonade: since Bangkok's already halfway down the country, I could easily visit one of those popular southern beach cities. So I decided to go to Krabi/Ao Nang. All I would need to do is spend an additional 12 hours on a bus.

The next day, I boarded my first bus in Chiang Mai, and was immediately impressed. It was really posh-looking “VIP” bus, and the seats looked like they belonged in the business class section of an airplane. I was even more pleased to find that I was seated beside some really awesome American friends I met previously. However, the bus ride was a bit rough. At random intervals, the driver would turn on the super-bright lights (appropriate only for major surgeries), crank Thai music loud enough to make the speakers crackle, and pick up the microphone to yell commands (I think) and irrelevant info with the tone and enthusiasm of an auctioneer. There didn't seem to be a reason for any of this, and it did not matter if it was midnight 2am, 3:30 am etc. The driver would also drop people off on the side of the road along the way (favours for locals perhaps?). As ridiculous as it was, I missed it when it was over.

BANGKOK, BURMESE EMBASSY, AND A VERY INTERESTING BUS STATION

I made it to Bangkok at 7 am, and it was already noticeably hotter than Chiang Mai. Oddly enough, the air was cleaner, as it is currently “burning season” in the north. At this point, in the oppressive city heat, I had to find the Burmese embassy, wait in its infamous lineup, and get out of Bangkok before it starts to hurt my soul. I quickly found the embassy, thanks to excellent public transit and very helpful personnel (even Toronto can learn a thing or two from Bangkok). For those applying for visas, the embassy is open for three hours in the morning for applications and only one hour in the afternoon for visa distribution.  Half an hour before opening in the morning, the embassy already had a massive line up. I made it though pretty quickly, and was told that I was approved and could pick up my passport at 3:30 the same day. 

All I had to do was hang around Bangkok for nearly six hours, in disgustingly hot weather, with a guitar and a large backpack strapped on me. More lemons, I guess, but fortunately I was able to pretend I was staying at a hostel at the other end of the city (somewhere I stayed previously). This allowed me go online to do some research. Long boring hours went by, and then I went back to the embassy.  This time the situation there was a bit more ominous—the lineup was much longer than it was this morning, yet everyone was lined up in the shade across the street; it was just too hot for anyone to stand against the wall during peak sunburn hours and sweat their lives away.  A couple of minutes before 3:30, a cattle-run of visa-hopefuls bombarded the door, and literally pushed their way though once it opened. Fortunately I was near the front of the herd.

Bangkok traffic goes on forever. This is why the death-defying motorbike taxis are so attractive.

Line across the street from the Burmese embassy in Bangkok (20 mins before the race to the door)

My next mission was to get to the southern bus terminal, which is inconveniently located at a far end of the city. A taxi without traffic would take 20-30 minutes, but the traffic in front of me portended a ridiculously long journey. So I decided to do something that everybody who visits Bangkok should do at least once: ride a motorbike taxi. Throughout the city (mostly outside metro stations), there are guys with yellow or pink shirts offering rides around town. They are motorcycle ninjas, and have a reputation of getting people where they need to go quickly by whatever means possible—including using alleys, driving the wrong way on one-way streets, and weaving through highway traffic.  For $9, I took the ride of my life, and made it to the southern airport in 20 minutes with my guitar and backpack still intact. I arrived at the bus station a stinky (but happy) mess of a man.

This is Ed. He nearly killed me, but he also saved a couple of hours of my life

Waiting at bus stations/terminals is awesome. There's just something magical about the experience. But this place was a bit different. As I waited inside the terminal—which is newly built and comfortable by any standard—I couldn't help but notice the prevalence of the infamous Thai "ladyboys." (that or aggressively forward, masculine-looking Thai women have some kind of affinity for this bus station).  Many awkward waves and hellos came in my direction; even a pharmacist was among the ranks. I'm pretty sure most were en route to some of the cities that are known for having high concentrations of both ladyboys and prostitutes (i.e. Pattaya and Phuket), as this is the station that offers busses to those cities.

Oh, and the station's massive washroom had neither toilet paper nor "the hose" (aka bum gun).  There wasn't even a sign or vestige of either. I've said it before, and I'll say it eternally: always pack toilet paper. I'm glad I did, although I can’t help but wonder what other people do in such situations. 

For the second night in a row, my hotel was a bus.  This one was much less comfortable than the first. I figured "first class" was good, and it was 2/3 the price of VIP. However, there wasn't even an option below first class. Perhaps it's just another example of Thai friendless and courtesy: even the “cheap” option is dignified. Despite the relative lack of comfort and space, this bus wasn't so bad. The seats didn't go very far back, but at least I wasn’t being woken up by random Thai music and bright lights at all hours of the night and morning. 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF KRABI/AO NANG 

I made it to Krabi, and a short ride from the bus station got me to my hostel in Ao Nang, which is a beautiful resort town near the islands. Krabi (and by extension, Ao Nang) is kind of an in-between place where people go before and after their trips to islands such as Koh Phi Phi. Fortunately I like in-between places.

The weather was somewhere between a sauna and a furnace, so it only made sense to rent a motorbike. I spent my time there riding around with a friend, visiting temples (one of which requires visitors to go up nearly 1300 very steep concrete stairs in the blazing heat), going to beaches, meeting people from all corners of the world, and eating great food—particularly southern Thai and Malaysian dishes.

This is the scenery all around Ao Nang. I just had to pull over and take a picture.

Railay Beach

Across the street from my hostel was a great little restaurant called Jungle Kitchen. At any given time, an amazing woman named Eve was the only person working—both cooking and serving (her husband does the building and maintenance). The first time I went there, she gave me mosquito spray and a big smile, followed by the best panang curry I have ever had in Thailand. After five weeks and dozens of tries, I found it (see my first food post). I licked the plate, and came back twice. I suspect that the south generally has better Panang, as the dish is reputedly from Malaysia, which is nearby. Thanks to the Muslim and Malaysian population, southern Thailand has some other amazing dishes, particularly the mighty massaman curry. This is known to be the best dish on earth, and it’s not difficult to find a good massaman in Krabi.

Sign outside the hostel

This is Eve—the force behind Jungle Kitchen

SOCIAL LIFE IN AO NANG

Being heavily touristic, Ao Nang naturally has a pretty big party scene. I went out for a "walk" with friends one night around 11pm and came back to the hostel around 5am—late enough that roosters were doing their thing by the time I got to sleep. Between those hours we went to several small venues, one of which had an amazing 80s/90s cover band. Many of the other places just seemed like frat parties, which is more or less in keeping with people’s descriptions of both the south and many of the islands.  

As soon as we arrived back at the hostel, the police dropped off one of the guys who was staying at the same place. He fell though the roof of a building up the street, and had no recollection of what happened. He lost his passport and wallet (credit cards and all) and had to somehow pay the damages. The police kept their word and picked up the noticeably scarred and bruised young man the next day to go search for his wallet. Of course, he didn’t find it, but still had to scrape up 2000 baht for damages (about $65).  Surprisingly, the police were not looking to line their own pockets (unless they took the wallet on arrival). Perhaps it was just a geographic anomaly. 

That same day, I woke up before noon to a bar full of empty shot glasses in the hostel’s lobby. Some Danish girls had recently arrived and decided to add some "points" for their country on the hostel’s “shots scoreboard” (yes indeed, a scoreboard, listing countries and shots consumed) . To make this even more extreme, they were drinking something called “inception” since 10:30 am (it's basically a drink within a drink, within a drink). Each drink counted as 2-3 shots.  According to the hostel’s owner/bartender, these recent customers cleared nearly 50 bottles of red bull and 3 bottles of liquor by early afternoon. People were also “icing” each-other (just plain cruel), so of course it was quite the scene. While setting records, the morning partiers were consecutively planning the next day’s visa run. From would I could understand, this was to involve a quick journey into Malaysia. Needless to say, the planning did not go so well.

The lesson, boys and girls, is this: drink responsibly (if at all), otherwise you may find yourself injured and robbed several thousand kilometres from home, or in unreliable company while trying to find a way to legally remain in a country. 

Fortunately, there were less hazardous ways to enjoy Ao Nang, including the aforementioned motorbike treks to temples and such (see my friend's travel blog for his take on the experience). It also paid off to lug my guitar across the country; hostel jams ensued, as they always do. 

Wat Sai Tai (Dragon Temple) in Krabi town

Stairs leading up to Wat Tham Sua (Tiger Cave Temple)

View from the top of Wat Tham Sua (Tiger Cave Temple)

Monkeys love the mountains

One of the most simple, practical, and fun things that virtually anyone can do throughout Thailand is learn and practice some new Thai words and phrases. This can be done through youtube, smartphone apps, or conversations with locals, and there are unlimited opportunities to refine pronunciation. However, while in Ao Nang, I met several people who had been in Thailand for weeks, and had barely learned how to say hello. Most of these people came here to party on the islands and such, and had very little interest in the language and culture. I saw it as a bit disrespectful, but decided to once again make lemonade. I made a serious effort to teach some new friends practical Thai phrases, most notably “awesome,”  “have a good day,” and “this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.” Once a teacher, always a teacher.

There is something called “living on Thai time,” and I experienced this in Ao Nang. Instead of staying two nights, I stayed for three, which required me to sacrifice a VIP bus ticket. I just couldn’t leave. Riding a motorbike on open roads, being surrounded by clean air, and meeting new people were more than enough to keep me there a bit longer. Alas, staying that extra day also meant I had to cancel a hostel in Bangkok and endure two consecutive buses home (totalling 22 hours, with a 1/2 hour break between), but it was worth it. Besides, the hostel owner gave me a discount for staying the extra day.  Lemonade.

Stay tuned... 

Intro to Thai Food

If the scenery, people, and way of life are not enough to make someone love Thailand, the cuisine would likely tip the balance. Naturally, there is a plethora of websites and blogs devoted to Thai food. Despite this, I felt compelled to add my own.

There are significant differences between Thai food in North America and in Thailand. Fortunately for me, someone else did the writing already (click here). The writer refers to American Thai food, but what's identified also applies to what is served in Canada. Despite the differences, there is a lot of great Thai food in North America. In fact, the best Panang curries I've had were in Toronto. There is a popular saying here: "same same, but different. Such is my assessment of North American Thai food in a nutshell. 

For some reason, the more modest the vendor (e.g. street food) the better the food tastes. The busiest "restaurants" are usually small garage-type establishments with someone cooking out front or mobile food stands on the sidewalk, surrounded by plastic stools and folding tables. I've been to many such places, and I'm baffled by this win-win situation, as these options are both the cheapest and tastiest. It's a paradox—or a "cosmetic mystery," as one writer puts it. 

Coming from Canada, I'm naturally inclined to consider the risks of eating in places that are less than sanitary, but I quickly ate my way though that barrier. Food-born illness is always a concern in countries with very limited food safety regulations, but from what I've gathered so far, the risk is relatively low here. Perhaps the spices kill off the bad stuff.  

There is one thing that all restaurants and vendors seem to have in common: fresh ingredients. Thailand has an abundance of locally-grown fruits and vegetables. This is partially why it's so difficult to find bad food here (unless you get western food). In Chiang Mai, there is a massive produce market which is busiest around 4am. At this time, vendors or their respective suppliers pick up what is needed for the day. At all hours, there are trucks full of produce coming in from the nearby mountains and countryside. Although, I'm not yet sure where the meat comes from, many of the dishes here are not meat-heavy. In fact, meat seems like an afterthought in some dishes. 


Below are some of my favourite dishes:

Phat Thai / Pad Thai

This is the classic Thai dish that is very popular both here and in North America.  It's a simple mix of noodles, sauce, sprouts, peanuts, egg, lime, and a few variables (e.g. dried shrimp, chicken, tofu).  The picture below is from a vendor I visit often. It costs $1 Canadian, and it is by far the best I've ever had. I'm always amazed by the fact that the woman who makes it (who I think is the happiest person on earth) whips up every dish in about 30 seconds. 

Phat Si Io / Pad Si Io

A friend introduced me to this on my first day in Chiang Mai, and I think I've had it a dozen times since. It consists of wide rice noodles, soy sauce, egg, greens, and meat (usually chicken or pork). It's quickly stir-fried into a mess of awesomeness.

Phanaeng Curry/ Panang Curry

This is basically chicken in a spicy peanut sauce. Oddly, I have yet to have a panang in Thailand that is comparable to the versions available at home (i.e. chicken drowning in delicious thick sauce). For now, I'll keep the faith and stay on the hunt for the best panang. 

Khao Man Gai

This literally translates to "chicken on rice." Right before I edited and posted this blog, a local friend took me out to try the dish. I was eager to get back and add it to this entry. 

As mentioned above, meat is not the highlight of many Thai dishes, and khao man gai is a perfect example of this. From what I've been told, the rice in any good khao man gai involves a complex cooking process similar to that of risotto. Stir frying and broth are involved, but I'm not yet sure what else the local places do to get it right. Whatever the cooks do, the intended result is creamy flavourful rice. If overcooked, it's considered unacceptable and won't be served. This dish, as well as many others, is served with a bowl of chicken broth and some kind of amazing sauce. Once again, this masterpiece set me back one dollar.

Khao Soi

This is the godfather of northern Thai dishes. It consists of soft noodles on the bottom, crispy noodles on top, a thick spicy coconut broth, and some pickled veggies on the side. Often there will be a chicken drumstick or two in the bowl. The common belief is that this is a Burmese dish that has been refined in northern Thailand, but not everyone agrees. Regardless of its origins, Chiang Mai is famous for this dish—if you've been here and haven't tried this, you should be ashamed of yourself.  

There are a few khao soi places in Chiang Mai that are literally famous throughout the country. The second picture below shows one of them. It seems that every Thai person in the city has been there, and the restaurant has also served the former prime minister and several celebrities (there are faded pictures on the wall to prove it).  Once again, it's another one of the many amazing, modest-looking establishments. I just wonder if the politicians and celebrities all sat on the plastic stools too.   

Many khao soi places also serve moo sa-te, a great companion to the mighty bowl.  It's basically tender bbq pork skewer, served with a peanut sauce and cucumber salad. 

Khao soi and moo sa-te.  This highly coveted combination went for about $2.75 Canadian.

In this country, appearances can be deceiving, but the situation was obvious in this case. If a humble-looking restaurant attracts customers who drive luxury cars, something good is happening.  

Cold Spring Rolls

These are ubiquitous in Thailand, and some of the best I've had were from my beloved roadside vendors. 

Cold veggie rolls from a Bangkok market. The sauce is a heavenly concoction of spices.

Many countryside resorts have on-site farms, and their restaurants serve the food they grow.  This is the result (excluding the french fries). 

Mango Sticky Rice

I was introduced to this on my second day in Chiang Mai, and was nearly driven to tears by how good it was. It consists of a fresh mango, sticky rice, some crispy things, and a sweet coconut milk mixture. Something divine happens when it's all stirred together. 

When it starts raining in a couple of months, the mangoes will be even better. 

Breakfast of champions. 

Som Tam  (Green Papaya Salad)

CNN listed this as one of the world's most delicious foods. I agree, but think it should be a bit higher than #46 out of 50. 

Som Tam and a Winnie the Pooh table cloth—next level dining experience. 

Stay tuned... 

A Visit to Pai

CLICK HERE TO SEE PICTURES

Pai (pronounced “bpai”) is a small town of roughly 2000 people, and is known as a “hippy enclave.”  Some people say it's worth visiting, and others say it's overrated. Last week, I headed there to decide for myself. Overall, I had a great time, but I can understand people's divergent perspectives on this town. 

The bus ride from Chiang Mai to Pai is typically just under four hours. I took a minibus (12 passengers), and the driver got us there in two and a half hours. The journey is known to be nauseating, regardless of the driver’s level of insanity; it’s a long drive through winding mountain roads. The bus station even sells dimenhydrinate (gravol/dramamine) in front of the Pai buses. I’m glad I took some (two passengers got sick along the way). I just wish I brought a helmet and some elbow pads, as sharp turns at high speeds can get a backseat passenger pretty banged up.

I arrived in Pai with my breakfast still in my stomach, and immediately felt the relaxed vibe this town is known for. The main street was full of small restaurants, coffee shops, and bars, many of which offered live music (particularly reggae) during the evenings. As expected, there was no shortage of westerners with dreadlocks and rice-farmer pants. What surprised me, however, was the proportion of foreigners. By the looks of it, they seemed to outnumber the locals. There was also a very noticeable amount of Japanese tourists, and there was a five-day Japanese festival happening in a nearby village. I still can’t figure out how that came into fruition, but I didn’t think too much about it—such is the law of the land. I also couldn’t help but notice a unique breed of people: the Thai Rasta. These are Thai guys with dreadlocks and Jamaican-themed clothes, hanging out in the town’s many reggae bars and cafes.

Being the stubborn person that I am, I decided to try and find my hostel on foot without any directions. Besides, I like the challenge. With both a guitar and a backpack strapped to me, I walked for nearly an hour in the heat and didn’t find it. I caved and asked couple that was in a nearby cafe. The man then asked his girlfriend if she could wait there for a few minutes, and he insisted on giving me a ride on his motorcycle. We had a short conversation along the way, during which he told me that he was originally from Michigan, and has been living in Pai for six years. This was an ideal intro to the town, as encounters with friendly strangers and stories of long-term western visitors are both common in Pai.  What was even more ideal was the hostelling experience.

I’ve never been able to understand why any traveller would choose a hotel over a hostel (unless it’s a family vacation). Hotels are soulless, lonely, and expensive; hostels, on the other hand, are generally friendly, fun, and conducive to creating new friendships. The same usually applies to guesthouses and homestays, albeit to a lesser extent. While hostelling in Pai, I learned a lot from other travellers (e.g. best places to visit in Southeast Asia, hostel recommendations, contacts, etc). This is one of the many benefits of hostelling; it’s like a concentrated social experience. It’s also bittersweet because you meet new people, form new social groups, and say goodbye—all in a short time span.

I stayed in two different (but equally awesome) hostels during my four nights in Pai. The first hostel is a short walk from the main town, and it consists of large bamboo dorms surrounded by a rice field. There are also several animals living on site, including a dog, a cat, cows, and several roosters (my daily wake-up call). This popular hostel is known for its relaxed atmosphere and bonfires, and I paid less than five dollars per night. I also rented a motorbike for about the same daily price as the hostel (did I mention I love this country?).  It’s the best way to get around, as there are waterfalls, hiking trails, a canyon, elephants, and hot springs all within a few kilometers of the town, but taxis are scarce. 

Within minutes of being at the hostel, I met about a dozen people from North America, Europe, and Australia, and we headed out on a few rides to see the aforementioned sites. In between, we relaxed in the common area—an elevated hut, loaded with hammocks. It always amazes me how quickly friendships and social dynamics develop in these types of places. This hostel was no exception; I met and got to know some truly awesome people in a very short amount of time.

After two and a half days, I reluctantly stuck with my plan to stay at another well-known hostel, located in the centre of town. As much as I didn’t want to leave the new friends I met, I got to meet and spend time with some more great people. The second hostel is popular among musicians, and nightly jams are the norm. How could I resist? Needless to say, I caught up on a lot of guitar playing. On my final day I decided to have a “Pai day.” Basically, this is a day during which you do a whole lot of nothing. At most, you lie down on a hammock and read, or maybe play some table tennis. I’ve never enjoyed doing nothing so much. It was a “nothing binge,” and it made me want to do even more nothings. 

During two of my nights in the town, I wandered the night market with whoever was present when the idea came up. Like any Asian night market, this one has clothes, food, and souvenirs. This market, however, also features a samurai-viking who sells hot and cold tea in bamboo stalks.

Despite all the good things, there is another side to Pai. Corrupt police, nearby opium fields, excessive tourism, and the recent influx of western residents have made it a very unusual palce. The latter has resulted in some resentment from the locals, as many foreigners open businesses there (semi-legally), and make very little effort to get to know the language, let alone pronounce the town’s name properly. However, the most notable problem that I noticed in Pai was that of tourists getting into motorbike accidents. I’m fairly experienced and cautious on motorbikes/scooters, but what I saw in Pai diminished my desire to ride. Renting a motorbike is “the thing to do” in Pai, and the bike rental places will rent to anyone, regardless of licenses or experience. I witnessed a few minor accidents while there, but there is an alarmingly noticeable proportion of tourists with motorbike injuries. A local resident told me that fatal accidents happen frequently, but the authorities keep the information from spreading. He also told me about an emergency-room doctor who kept a written record of motorbike injuries and deaths, and spoke about them in a documentary. Shortly after the documentary was filmed, the doctor was graced with a visit from some influential people, and the hospital “changed” its record-keeping rules. Regardless of the politics, riding is a motorbike in Southeast Asia comes with significant risks, and Pai is an egregious example of what happens when too many inexperienced drivers are added to the mix. One backpacker told me that when he brought a friend to the emergency room for a foot injury, it was full of severely injured tourists. He said that he needed to get out of there because of the “bad vibes.” To me, this was just the reality hitting him hard—Pai is not perfect. For those of us who had little desire to ride motorbikes, there were always hammocks.