Aik, our driver, had this habit of half-giggling like Scooby Doo whenever he got excited.
And that got the girls a little irritated. Especially when the both of us launched into saucy banter and the poor man got a trifle horny. Well someone had to humor the fella right? But he played the role of Host
par Excellence and tried his level best to ensure our 48 hours were not wasted.
Before I could tell him I wanted to make the 20km trip out to the Doi Suthep mountains to see Wat Phra That, Aik already suggested we take the drive up. So after some lunch of fantastic slither-down-your-throat Kway Teow in fishball soup, we piled into his Vios for an hour's snooze, enroute to the much visited temple above the thick forested foliage that is Doi Suthep National Park.
The sinewy ride up the mountain was worth it because Wat Phra That is really a magnificent piece of Lanna Art. Two Nagas flank a sweeping staircase of 304 steps that lead up to an elevated courtyard where the Wat's central golden chedi stands glistening in the mid-afternoon sun. On top, hundreds of pilgrims were making their slow circuits around the shiny behemoth, fresh lotus flowers in hand, knuckles clasped in prayerful supplication.
And then it was time to give our bodies a little punishment with a traditional Thai massage. I must state, for the record, that I am not a fan of muscular ladies kneading your tired muscles with the only instruments of torture being their hands and feet. Or should I say elbows and knees.
I was contorted in every which way. Bent, pulled, pressed ,twisted and stepped upon in every evil position imaginable. And still managed to giggle like a pre-pubescent schoolgirl when the masseuse used her sharp elbow and planted it on my inner thigh. It didn't help that Alex, who was on the neighboring mattress, was trying her darnest to stifle her own laughter. With little success, I must report.
We swore to only stick with the aromatic oil massages after that. Well at least with the oils, sufficient smooth lubrication would ensure a somehow lessened vice-like grip on the bodily parts that matter.
Then it was back to the hotel for a shower, and then a seafood dinner at this excellent restaurant whose name I can now not remember.
You know Chiang Mai's Anusan Night Market rates as the best in the whole of Thailand. The level of refinement in goods sold at this after-dinner-stroll bazaar certainly gives Chatuchak a big run for its money. And there is a very decent variety of stuff on sale to boot.
The day's exertions then began to take its toil. Because by the time we reached our dinghy Downtown Inn, just 100 elephants away from where the action is, we were too pooped to even take a shower.
Yes, dirty people.
Labels: Travel