Post 2219
- 8 years and 31 days since I started this blog -
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| At Coffee Addict |
(written 1/31/19)
Read this once (it won't change for the rest of the trip(s): I'll be linking this post to Facebook. If that's how you got here, here's some background: About 8 years ago I started this blog as a food journal. I had a medical situation and needed to lose weight. Initially, that's all I did here: Journal my food intake and my weight. It contributed to helping me lose 20+% of my body weight in 6 months, and continuing has kept me on track since then. I started adding commentary after a while, but lately it has become infrequent.
While I'm traveling, I let go of the weight-tracking and food journaling, except for the occasional food shot when I've eaten something interesting. And that's where we find ourselves now.
As I write this, I have been wooed by the Starbucks across the moat, lured away from the usual group of coffee shops I use to write in. I feel guilty, even though the virtues are undeniable: air-conditioning, cost, WiFi speed. Air-conditioning. Oh, and almond-paste croissants, the likes of which I haven't had since Lisbon.
Some things have changed a little in the year since my last visit. I've already mentioned the negatives of Uber's disappearance. Also, the Thai baht has strengthened against the dollar by twenty percent, making things at least that much more expensive.And, while the weather is just as dry and beautiful as on my last trip, which saw no rain at all, it is hotter.
My favorite restaurant, Tikky Café has become so popular I can't get in (I am never in a situation where I want food and I'm willing to wait a half hour or more to order it). The benefit of this is that I've found great restaurants to replace it with. None are better, but they all have some quality which is as good and balance the greatness that are my favorite Tikky dishes.
I have been getting massages on a fairly regular basis for the last ten days, trying different places, all of which charge around eight dollars for an hour, which, accounting for the currency difference is what I paid last year. But my regular masseuse last year was better. Maybe I've spoiled.
The most convenient massage parlor to me is an upscale affair. Yesterday, I broke down and booked a session. It is three dollars more! But, they greet you with a relaxing lavender-colored beverage of some fruit I can't identify, relax you, ritually wash your feet, then give you the best massage you've ever had, followed by a decompressing time with delicious tea and cakes for that low premium.
So now I've found a regular massage place. This is one of the delights of Chiang Mai that is just so... Thai! The Thai are all on board with the benefits of massage. It isn't just a tourist thing, and, while it can be in some places if that's what you want, it isn't a sex thing. There's an art to it, and it is separate from all the Western expectations. There are massage schools teaching this formal technique all over Chiang Mai.
Two weeks of regular walking haven't done anything to counter the gluttony I've been practicing, as far as my weight is concerned - I'm definitely gaining weight. But I have mastered crossing the streets here. No small feat, I assure you.
Because there are few traffic lights, and no pedestrian right-of-way here, crossing the street is the biggest danger I face here. For reference, you have to remember an early computer game called Frogger. In this game, you will remember, the goal is for the frog to cross the street, jumping through four-to-six lanes of traffic going in different directions.
Except for the frog part, crossing the street in Chiang Mai is the same. The traffic never stops, and you have to choose your path to cross without getting hit or causing an accident. Anecdotal evidence suggests that newcomers' failure to negotiate this accounts for the largest number of expat casualties, although I have never seen an accident in Chiang Mai.
Monday night is open mic night at Boy Blues Bar, where, a year ago, it all fell into place for me in Chiang Mai. I played there three times last year. This was my second outing this year. I had seen Boy, the guitarist, singer, show-runner and owner of the bar, in a few other places and he is very friendly.
I get lucky: First, I run into some folks I had met the week before at the CEC breakfast. I had heard they'd accepted my invitation to come out the week before, and hadn't seen them. This time, waiting for the show to begin, we were all a happy family. They introduced me to their friend Cathy, an American who has lived in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, for the last three years.
We hit it off right away. I enlist her to take some photos during my set. Unfortunately, they all leave relatively early, so I get limited pics. But I do get some souvenir video.
Second lucky thing: My friend Oliver, whose birthday party I went to the Saturday before last, and who was guitarist for my gig Sunday, is house guitarist for the open mic. Ollie is a very good guitarist. He is a house band regular at Boy's - and is the very first guitarist I ever played with in Chiang Mai. And, he's a great guy and has been a good friend to me from day one.
Once the jam is ready to start, Ollie is the first one to notice that the bass player hasn't shown up. He suggests to Boy that I fill in, and thus, I end up playing almost the entire night (except for two sets with their own bass players in hand).
It is an awesome, fun night for me. I just love getting the playing time. Ollie and I work well together, and there are no challenging drummers, so the rhythm section is pretty tight all night. Some videos I have of the proceedings suggest we earned the good audience response we got.
I get the closing song, which finishes just after midnight, when most of the SRO crowd has gone. It goes well, so it's a good end to the night, and an auspicious beginning for my birthday.
This is going to be the longest birthday of my life, beginning, as it does, twelve hours earlier than if I were at home. I have to wait about sixteen hours before the back-in-Eastern-North America home team starts getting up on my birthday, there.
I don't have any solid plans, other than to attend the Tuesday night jam at the North Gate Jazz Coop, where I have been promised I will get to lead a song.
I send out a note to the friends I am connected with on Facebook, and we agree to meet at a good Indian place for dinner before the jam at North Gate.
I celebrate my birthday first with some truly excellent food at Goodsouls Kitchen, topped off by what I suspect is the first piece of birthday cake of the day. I end up being wrong about that, it is also the last, but it might have been un-toppable, anyway.
I take a walk around the neighborhood I'm staying in, this time angling toward the other side of old town, where David lives. Along the way there, I stop in to a beautiful, large wat I haven't been before, and, inspired by a row of meditating monks within, I meditate. I've never meditated in a temple (Buddhist or otherwise) before. A birthday first.
When I reach David's we tuk-tuk to dinner together.
Dinner is a boisterous affair, with lots of camaraderie - everybody there, except for David's girl Mai, is a musician - and (but?) it is amazingly non-alcoholic. There is a joke-telling marathon, complete with post-delivery critique. Everyone gets in the act. Lots of laughs!
The food is good, although, due to a full-restaurant and, perhaps, the number of people at our table, the service is not. No matter.
When the meal is over, only Daniel shows any interest in going to North Gate. Harry does agree to drive me up on his motorbike. I want to stop for drinks, but tonight, Harry isn't into drinking (probably an excellent decision, given that he does have to drive back, and isn't planning on staying too long). I get us beers. We stay for a number of songs we both like, and then, having finished his one beer, and hearing a song he doesn't care for, he takes off.
Not too long after the jam starts, I get called up, and lead the band through a jammy version of Bill Withers' Who Is He?. It is a great song for a jam, and all the musicians have fun with it, and it is very well-received by the audience. And it ends cleanly. Next, we back up a woman harp-player on a jump blues, which the audience loves, and I'm done.
I order a third beer. Big mistake, for no reason I understand. I am halfway through it, and my stomach begins feeling queasy. I try making that go away with more beer, but no dice. I'm done for the evening. Without saying goodnight to anybody, I take a right-there tuk-tuk back to my room. The first half of my thirty-six hours of birthday is over.
I wake up yesterday morning feeling great, and energized.
I have an enjoyable breakfast at Coffee Addict. There is a photo-shoot going on near my table, and it makes the lighting perfect for me to take a couple of selfies.
After, I go back to my room, gather up my dirty clothes and bring them to the woman next door who does laundry. She is not around, so I leave the bag there, knowing she will recognize it (and some of the clothes within that she washed last week). I'm not worried about leaving my clothes like this. It just isn't that kind of rip-off scene here.
I take a nap, and only wake up to the alarm I had fortunately remembered to set, and go to the previously-mentioned awesome massage.
Today, I went back to Santitham Breakfast to have the Pig's Organ Soup. It is variably good - the different ingredients have different textures, some I like better than others.
The big surprise is the liver, which is very different-tasting than the chicken and occasional beef liver I've tried before and am more accustomed to eating. It is much milder and has better texture. I can't identify all the different parts, but I can distinguish between them by shape and color, and there's one I taste and pick out to avoid.
But the big reward is the broth, which I slurp shamelessly when I've had my fill of the firmer content. It is amazingly complex and has the meat equivalent of butterscotch smooth flavor, chock full of umami.
After, I stop on my way back to my room at Starbucks, where I'm writing this now, and feeling completely at peace with myself and the Universe.
Life is good, and I am grateful.
When the meal is over, only Daniel shows any interest in going to North Gate. Harry does agree to drive me up on his motorbike. I want to stop for drinks, but tonight, Harry isn't into drinking (probably an excellent decision, given that he does have to drive back, and isn't planning on staying too long). I get us beers. We stay for a number of songs we both like, and then, having finished his one beer, and hearing a song he doesn't care for, he takes off.
Not too long after the jam starts, I get called up, and lead the band through a jammy version of Bill Withers' Who Is He?. It is a great song for a jam, and all the musicians have fun with it, and it is very well-received by the audience. And it ends cleanly. Next, we back up a woman harp-player on a jump blues, which the audience loves, and I'm done.
I order a third beer. Big mistake, for no reason I understand. I am halfway through it, and my stomach begins feeling queasy. I try making that go away with more beer, but no dice. I'm done for the evening. Without saying goodnight to anybody, I take a right-there tuk-tuk back to my room. The first half of my thirty-six hours of birthday is over.
I wake up yesterday morning feeling great, and energized.
I have an enjoyable breakfast at Coffee Addict. There is a photo-shoot going on near my table, and it makes the lighting perfect for me to take a couple of selfies.
After, I go back to my room, gather up my dirty clothes and bring them to the woman next door who does laundry. She is not around, so I leave the bag there, knowing she will recognize it (and some of the clothes within that she washed last week). I'm not worried about leaving my clothes like this. It just isn't that kind of rip-off scene here.
I take a nap, and only wake up to the alarm I had fortunately remembered to set, and go to the previously-mentioned awesome massage.
Today, I went back to Santitham Breakfast to have the Pig's Organ Soup. It is variably good - the different ingredients have different textures, some I like better than others.
The big surprise is the liver, which is very different-tasting than the chicken and occasional beef liver I've tried before and am more accustomed to eating. It is much milder and has better texture. I can't identify all the different parts, but I can distinguish between them by shape and color, and there's one I taste and pick out to avoid.
But the big reward is the broth, which I slurp shamelessly when I've had my fill of the firmer content. It is amazingly complex and has the meat equivalent of butterscotch smooth flavor, chock full of umami.
After, I stop on my way back to my room at Starbucks, where I'm writing this now, and feeling completely at peace with myself and the Universe.
Life is good, and I am grateful.
Food Comment
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| At Overstand Coffee Shop: Parmesan eggs with olive tapenade on home-made whole-grain toast with tomatoes salad, smoked salmon and hummus, |
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| Chocolate-mocha-hazelnut layer cake at Goodsouls Kitchen. My birthday cake! |
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| From Santitham Breakfast: On the left, pork dumplings; on the right, pig organ soup. I like the dumplings better, but the soup was excellent in its own right, even though there were parts I didn't like the texture of. |
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