New Year Fireworks

I blogged recently about how Thais celebrate any and every occasion with fireworks ...

Here's a date for your diary if you're in the north of Thailand this New Years Eve:

Head to 700 Year Stadium in Chiang Mai, where they hold an international contest between 5 countries to see who can produce the most spectacular explosions.

It promises to fill the skies of the north.

And whether you're there or elsewhere for firework celebrations, stand well back. I met a boatman last week who'd lost an arm and one eye from a firework that went off unexpectedly. (No, there's no punchline, just a public service announcement.)

Happy New Year to all my loyal readers ... and the unfaithful ones too.

Of course this is not the real New Year for Thais. December 31 they call Countdown. The real new year happens later in the year, jing jing.

Thailand's Tijuana

If you've ever been to the USA, especially LA or San Diego, chances are you would be familiar with Tijuana.

It's the gaudy, seedy, slightly desperate Mexican border town where Americans go for cheap pharmaceuticals, cheap trinkets, and cheap company. Plus you can claim 'I've been to Mexico!'

Well, Thailand has Burma's Tachileik.  Go north to Mae Sai (about for hours by road from Chiang Mai) and you'll arrive at the border, also Thailand's northern-most point. Tour buses and market stalls congest the approach to the bridge for about 1 kilometre.

A small bridge over a narrow muddy river (only about 10 metres wide) is the border. A huge archway welcomes you to the Union of Myanmar. Yes, this is Burma, keep walking. Pay 500 baht and you get an entry permit (14 days for 500 baht) and hand your passport over nervously for their safekeeping so you don't defect to Burma.

Then, you're in Burma. Suddenly you're swarmed on by a plague of vendors selling temple tours, Viagra, beer, Viagra, taxi service, Viagra, hotels, Viagra, massage, Viagra ... and, just in case you need it, more Viagra. Jing jing!

The market beside the bridge is a seething, labyrinthine mass stalls and humanity, like a canvas-and-plastic version of a Middle Eastern souk bazaar. Among other necessaries, you will be offered Saddam Hussein playing cards, Viagra, beer, Cialis, water, Viagra, sunglasses, Cialis, cigarettes. I don't know what this says about the vendors. Or the visitors.

Suffice to say, everything is on sale and for sale -- including their own grandmothers I suspect. I snapped up a pair of Adidas running shoes for 500 baht. (Yes, they work in baht and all speak Thai). I'm hoping they'll last at least one week in the gym so I get my money's worth.

It's a tour bus scrum getting in and out of the place. You'll be thankful once you return over the bridge to Thailand. Then realise, you went to Burma -- arguably one of the world's most fascinating countries -- and saw absolutely bloody nothing.

Actually, that's not true. Burma looks exactly like Mexico.

A little Christmas Sparkle

Part of firework show at Sukhothai

Thailand is a Buddhist country. Ok, so not exactly a banner headline there.

But make no mistake the fun-loving Thais are not going to let a good celebration go by without celebrating it with full gusto. Even if it's a Christian festival such as Christmas.

Everywhere the Christmas trees are out, decorated with lights and tinsel. Shopping malls and stores blare out carols. And Christmas sales and specials are to be had.

Just like Christmas in a Western country ... er, with one exception -- FIREWORKS!!!

From here I can see my neighbour rigging up his 'little' show for tonight. Oh boy, I think this extravaganza might be visible from the International Space Station. And audible from Mars, jing jing.

Merry Christmas to all my regular readers, and hope you get a good 'bang' tonight wherever you are.

The Art and Craft of hospitality

What do you do when you're a retired oil trader and a former Citibank systems executive who want to get out of the rat race?

Why, you buy 4 rai of land, spend 6 years building The Heritage House and Garden, and introduce yourselves to 16-hour working days in service of your guests, of course.

That's what Charles and Aunchan Sands did. They were visiting Chiang Mai when a friend in the real estate game asked if they were interested in looking at some property on the Samoeng Road, behind Doi Suthep. "Yeah, maybe if see something we like ...," laughs Charlie. "Well, we bought the land the day we saw it." And who can blame them -- a nice acreage in a quiet and secluded valley, with a stream running though it, and a meditation centre across the way.

That was six years ago, and they've just opened for business now, jing jing. "We talked about a bed-and-breakfast concept, because we lived in the UK for six years," explains the upstate New Yorker, "and we wanted to include the Arts and Craft Movement. I never imagined we'd undertake anything like this" -- he surveys the stately Provencale-style Manor House behind him -- "but we got sucked into it."

In front across the sprawling lawn is Dragonfly Cottage, and to his left is the Tuscan cottage. Five habitable buildings on the property in all, including their own residence. "We ended up with a small village," he smiles in wonder.

The Arts and Craft Movement is a recurring theme. "Restraint is the mark of good design," says Charlie. Books by William Morris, Charles Rennie McIntosh (the forerunner of the art nouveau movement) and Frank Lloyd Wright are among the extensive library collection, which also features numerous architecture and gardening titles. The Library is a room that makes you want to slouch in a big comfy chair while the fireplace crackles in the corner.

"Chiang Mai's climate is similar and suitable for Provencale inspiration," says Charlie, "but we don't have the Mistral here thank God."

The couple had a local stone-worker toiling for 4 years, and all the stones were sourced from neighbouring village, Ban Pong. Stained glass, used heavily, was sourced from the USA.Tromp l'oeil paintings, usually of grapes and vines, adorn many walls. Antique furniture came from nearby Ban Tawai village and as far away as Rajahstan -- and some from the internet -- each piece lovingly selected and procured by the pedantic couple for a particular space.

Each of the 8 suites is done out in a distinctively different style. There's the soft pink Sunflower room decorated with cherubs, the English Country room all floral (Aunchan's choices), the Chinese suite in rich velvety plum, a Thai suite, a French Aristocratic suite in red and gold (with a Monet reproduction), a more rustic French room, and the top Wisteria suite which features windows on all sides, a terrace, and an 'eagles nest' lookout.

A grand 10-seater dining table lords over the dining area, with its soaring cathedral ceilings.

The attention to detail is splendid; and tiring just to listen to the amount of work that went into each fitting. "It wasn't like doing a Holiday Inn," laughs Charlie.

Outside, the constant trickle of water from the stream and fountains is pleasingly soothing, complementing the calming nature of the lush English/ French gardens. "I was influenced by the lovely English gardens we saw, the National Trust Gardens," says the charming Thai hostess, Aunchan.

It's so utterly convincing in its style, you forget where you are. But, just on sunset, I hear a sound: Waaaa-Eaw! Waaaa-Eaw! Ah, the unmistakable call of the jing jok lizard.

So, we are in Thailand after all.

A real meat market ...

View from temple across town

It may not look so fascinating on the surface, but Thoed Thai is a northern town rich in history. It used to be one of the main ports-of-call on the trading route from ancient Chiang Mai to Laos, when, believe it or not, cows used to trundle across borders with baskets laden with goods for sale.

And its Burmese style temple -- Phratat Ga Kam stupa, all gaudy gold, red and green -- dates back to 1181. The ashes of that one were incorporated into the new one which sits proud, dominating the small town's skyline. Ornate filigree work sets it apart, as does a stunning interior mural of Buddha and the Bodhi tree. From here you can see a mosque and church, giving you an idea of how diverse its 50,000 population is.

So when I am woken around 6am with an Islamic-like call to prayer, I am not best impressed. The chant goes on in an endless loop, like some sort of CIA interrogation technique designed to break your spirit. As it happened I was going to get up early to visit the Thoed Thai markets anyway ...

A real meat market. Fresh dead stuff.

"It's possibly the most authentic produce market in Thailand, it's a good one," a friend of mine, who knows these parts well, had told me.

The sun was barely up with a bit of mist sitting heavy in the valley. So as we rugged up, with woolen cap and scarf, this chant or prayer or annoyance continued blaring through the town.

The market is held on the street at the base of the 180 stairs that lead to the temple, just around the corner from Khun Sa's previous headquarters. And this is when it dawned (literally) on me. The 'noise' was coming from the temple, not from the mosque. This guy was relentless. He was actually broadcasting live. I know that, because at around the 45 minute mark he paused briefly, coughed and spluttered into the microphone, then continued.

The main street and one lateral street formed the marketplace. And what delightful fresh produce: piles and piles of oranges, bananas, pork legs, chicken legs, fish, eels, and ... uggh ... what's that? Hairy tofu. Tofu with mould growing out of it. And people were paying for this and actually eating it. Jing jing.

A local lovely.

Hill-tribe ladies lugged heavy baskets strapped across their foreheads. Most of the vendors were noticeably middle-aged ladies, many of whom had either had razor blades for breakfast (they're rich in iron you know) or had been chewing betelnut.

We sat down to a breakfast of champions (if you are my family doctor or physical trainer, please turn away from the screen now): jam donuts, fried deep-fried fried stuff, taro and coconut in condensed milk, pork buns and heart-starting coffee with condensed milk. That pretty much supplied my Recommended Sugar Intake for the month in one sitting.

The townsfolk ambled through, making small talk, swapping gossip and buying stuff. Then, by 9am it was all done. Everything was packed away, and the streets were empty leaving me wondering: Did that all really just happen or was I imagining it?

The stains of jam down my shirt front confirmed it was for real. And my ears were still ringing from that chant which mercifully finally ceased after a full hour and a half.

Sweets For My Sweet, Sugar For My Honey ...

That's Mee the master cook in the white apron.

Anticipation was high, the expectation great. After all, a French friend of mine -- a chef in a Michelin-rated restaurant in Paris and Australia -- had been raving about Sweet Mae Salong cafe:

"Oh, you must try their creme brulee, it is the best one outside of Paris!"

Really? A place in the boondocks of northern Thailand dishing up gourmet desserts?

I found myself in the mountains of Doi Mae Salong recently, and so naturally had to check out this place. On the lower part of the town, Sweet Mae Salong is perfectly charming from the outside with its wood and bamboo cladding.

Then once inside, cool jazz tunes sweep over you, and your eyes are drawn to the valley outside. The cafe hangs over a stunning piece of countryside, with terraced tea plantations opposite. Cast your eyes around and you can hardly believe you're in some little mountain town; it feels as cool as anywhere in downtown Sukhumvit Road. Magazines in any number of languages, arty photographs of the area, and a certain designery chic.

Sooo out of place ...

Sweet Mae Salong is the 'baby' of Ton and Mee, a lovely young couple from Bangkok who decided to pursue their dream. "My family ran a traditional Thai restaurant, very primitive," she laughs. "But I love baking, not really cooking."

Oh, so she studied dessert making under some renowned chef or something? "No, I studied international business in Melbourne," she laughs. "And I studied photography," chimes in the affable Ton. "Spend lots of money to study in Melbourne, now serve coffee and bake cakes!" 

They serve up a splendid breakfast; a mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage with slices of the best home-made wholemeal bread thick as hard-cover novels. Ton's tertiary education was not wasted -- his coffee is spot on.

Other guests shuffle into the tiny cafe, rugged up against the morning chill which can get down to about 5 or 10 degrees on a wintry morning. Everyone wants to sit on the balcony and be thawed by the morning son that stream across those tables.

We chat between cups of coffee. Why Doi Mae Salong? "It's a balance between nature, culture and money," says the artistically slim Ton. "And Mae Salong is interesting. We have tradition and we have the internet." A Mac computer sits wired nearby. "But it's quiet versus Bangkok and Mee loves the weather."

Over a period of a few days of dropping in here, we feel a sense of homeliness, a compliment to the couple. Our group samples a number of items from Mee's 30-dessert repertoire (she bakes around 3 or 4 of those different items each day). The raspberry tart is wicked, and the creme brulee is, indeed, the best this side of Paris.Or maybe the best including Paris, jing jing.

For someone who doesn't have a sweet tooth, I amazingly find myself hankering to get back there. And, like my French friend, I too have been raving about this great little cafe in the mountains of Mae Salong ...

Doi Mae Salong - A little bit of China in Thailand

Chinese Martyr's Memorial Hall

Could Doi Mae Salong be one of the world's most remote Chinatowns?

The little town is accessed by a snaking mountain road about 3.5 hours north of Chiang Mai, itself being fairly remote as it's 600km north of Bangkok. Yet it's as Chinese as Beijing. Maybe even more so, now that the cadres have embraced progressive capitalism with such gusto.

The first sign of Mae Salong's Chineseness is a rather elaborate gate at the front of town indicating the Chinese Martyr's Memorial Hall. (And now that I look at it, that apostrophe is in the wrong position but that's what it's called ...) Chinese Martyr's? What? Who? Where? Why???

It turns out that in 1949 with the Chinese Revolution, defeated Chiang Kai Shek took most of his Kuo Min Tang army off to Taiwan. However the KMT 93rd Regiment had to flee south from Yunnan, through Burma, and they ended up regrouping in these far-flung hills, close to the Burma border.

From here, they agitated and fought against the communists, and did whatever other military work they could do in the area, ingratiating themselves to their Thai hosts. So they were granted citizenship and allowed to settle.

Now, 60 years later, they've left a strong legacy. Apart from the huge red-and-gilt Memorial Hall, tassled red lanterns hang from ornate eaves. Shop signs are mainly in Chinese, sometimes Chinese and Thai.  

One of a thousand tea shops

One enthusiastic vendor calls out to me to try her mulberry wine. (The Chinese invented silk too, made by silkworms which eat mulberry leaves.) It is deliciously sweet, but more like cordial than a wine, so Penfold's don't have to worry about the price of Grange plummeting any time soon, jing jing.

And the locals speak Chinese. "Yes, meeeester, about 80 percent speak Chinese," says Vit Toon, a moon-faced young chap at Little Home Guesthouse, who cooks up a lip-smacking Yunnanese feast including porks leg soup on their terrace overlooking the valley.

"It feels like Yunnan before," says my companion, who'd worked in that southern China province for a couple of years. Indeed the whole town is infused with the feeling of a Chinese frontier town. Especially with the added textural presence of Chinese-origin hilltribes such as the Akha, who's beaded and coined head-wear clank as they shuffle along the steep streets lugging baskets of tea leaves from down the slopes.

Now that opium has been eradicated from the area, the very Chinese crop of tea -- invented by a Chinese warrior let's not forget -- has taken its place.

Dozens of modern and inviting tea shops line the town's streets, stacked ceiling high with bags and boxes and cans of tea of all different varietals. And the endless plastic-sided street markets also peddle tea and tea sets.

So, save yourself the airfare to China. Instead, take a car, motorbike, bicycle or song taew to Doi Mae Salong instead. It's Chinese, to a tea. Er, tee.

Khum Nai Pon - A pretty fancy campsite

Armin, a Swiss friend of mine who runs custom tours through Northern Thailand, has suggested Khum Nai Pon as the best accommodation in the hill town of Doi Mae Salong. As we ride up the main road (well, the town is only one road wide as it's on a precipitous ridge) we see the hotel ahead ...

Charming wooden villas, each nestled amid tea plantations, golden trumpet flowers and flaming red hibiscus. So far so good.

We meet the gracious host, Khun Yuie, at the casual reception/ dining area as we admire the sweeping views down over the valley and the colourful tiled roofs of the Chinese town which hugs the ridge until it drops out of sight.

The original Khum Nai Pon buildings

Yuie is keen to share the fabulous history of this site. "Khum Nai Pon means Nai Pon's Camp," she says, "and he was a general in the Kuo Min Tang army who fought against the communists." I strap myself in for an instant history lesson of the area. "He also headed up security for Khun Sa, the drug dealer, and provided protection and passage for his opium into Burma."

Gee, thanks Armin, what kind of sleazy dive have we got ourselves into here?

Yuie extends her arm out to the valley: "This whole area was poppy fields."

She came here 10 years ago, once the area had been cleaned up. "There was nothing, just nature. So quiet you could hear the birds. But the promotion has been too successful ... now motorbikes." Indeed Mae Salong has grown in leaps and bounds since being opened up to the general public (it was a no-go zone for many years because of the military and drug activities).

She suggests the town could retain its quaintness by putting in a big car park at the top then everybody can use horse-and-cart from there. She adds a rather deranged clip-clop sound which reminds me of the introduction to Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

There are none of the original buildings left, instead replaced by cute and comfortable villas, with little balconies affording wide open views.The general certainly chose a good spot.

But then I guess when you're the general and the strongman for the world's biggest drug czar, you can have any damn place you want, jing jing.