June 14, Chiang Mai, Chiangmai Inn

The guy who greeted me at Chiangmai Inn, Mr Whisky, seemed pretty pissed off by my Bangkok cynicism. Getting off my sleeper carriage train at Chiang Mai at eight in the morning, I breached a two-layered wall of touts and tuk-tuk drivers at the end of the platform before giving in to a confusingly female tout-cum-driver just outside the station. She said I should go to a certain guest house. I said no thanks, I plan to go to hostel called SpicyThai where I’m going to find the guy I accidentally gave 500 baht to on my England-USA night out on Khao San Road. SpicyThai too far. She showed me her map, and sure enough, it was a little out of the way, so I said ok then, take me to the government tourist information centre and I’ll take it from there. I hopped on her tuk-tuk and a couple of genial exchanges and back streets later, I ended up at Chiangmai Inn.

200 baht for an en-suite room seemed a little too good to be true, so I said to Mr Whisky, who was sat in front of a big board of trekking photos and prices, this is too cheap for a private room. Am I going to be tied into a trekking tour to get the price? What are you talking about, man?! Trekking tour has nothing to do with room. Trekking tour different. Take it, leave it, I don’t care. It sounded like a good deal so I checked in for one night and took my first shower in over two days from the comfort of my new room.

The rain that decimated Lub D’s satellite coverage of the South Africa-Mexico match had stopped and it was a hot, relatively dry day on my first day in Bangkok. I got up at eleven and headed out with the vague intention of catching a boat up the river to the tourist centre with all the big buddha statues and other cultural obligations. I walked West, which meant that at some point I would end up at the river. For a while I enjoyed the streets enough to shrug off two or three tuk-tuk offers. Then came Tuk-Tuk Tony, along with the whim to my head that, actually, a tuk-tuk ride is an experience that embodies the spirit of the city and one I should embrace right away.

So I hopped on for 20 baht- a ride, I though, to the river pier via some local temples for some sightseeing. And then there were shops- three of them. First a small travel agent, which if I stayed in and showed interest for over five minutes, Tuk-Tuk Tony gets some petrol vouchers for in commission. Stay long time, please, long time, for me, to help me. Of course Tuk-Tuk Tony, it’s a hot day and business hasn’t been great lately after the Red Shirt protests, of course I’ll help. So I went in, got my notebook out and took notes as the travel agent told me about trekking in Chiang Mai. Then I was taken to a tailor, a suit shop. Again, I diligently went in with my notebook and took down notes as the tailor told me about the different cuts of fabric and prices. He looked pretty suspicious, but why should I be in the wrong? In the third shop, another travel agent, the guy at the desk busted me with the business cards I’d received from the other travel agent and tailor as I opened my notebook for a third time. He got up and sent me to the door. If I’m not going to buy, go now, otherwise he will have to pay the driver 300 baht. You want to pay me 300 baht? No, so I left. Next stop was the final stop, some sort of impressive tourist attraction which I didn’t go into, near-ish to a pier but not the right one. It was getting late, too late to make it to Wat Pho before closing time, so I strolled back to the hostel, guided by a very tall Sofitel that stood next to it in the distance. Back at the hostel, everyone had been through the same tuk-tuk shop routine on their first days.

Today, Mr Whisky’s sales pitch for his special trek costing four times the average street price, went something like this. If I go into the centre of Chiang Mai I’ll be bombarded by touts to go on treks, but all of them are working off commission for the same handful of organisers who have been running the same trekking schemes for 30 years. He pointed at two close-by towns on the map, Mae Rim and Hang Dong, said that all treks go to one of these two places, renting the same elephants from the same farms and visiting the same mountain communities who after all these tours have learned to supersize their share of the touristic tart by dressing up super-indigenously and posing in photos for baht. His treks are carefully planned to give a ‘non touristic’ experience, led by committed, knowledgeable, and long-established guides who understand the ecosystems of the places we’d be trekking to. He pointed to an unmarked place on the map, and said that the people here will be our hosts, people who haven’t been tainted by Bangkok and mass tourism.

Serendipitously, two couples turned up at the entrance to the inn just as his ended his spiel. They’d just come from a Mr Whisky designer trek. Was it worth 6500 baht when the typical price on the street was around 1500? It sounded pretty good, and on his way out one of the guys, a serene English blond with two bars of music tattooed on the underside of his upper right arm, farewelled his tour guide with a kiss on the head, a good look I thought. After my shower I went exploring the area, popping into a few travel agents to see if what Mr Whisky said was accurate. They all had colourful pictures of elephants and huts and rafts and mountain people. And sure enough, when I asked for details inside they all pointed to Mae Rim and Hang Dong on the map.

After lunch, I sat with Mr Whisky back in Chiangmai Inn’s reception where one of the housekeepers was beating a snake with her broom, and worked out a discount on the premium trek. I leave the day after tomorrow at 6.30am, returning two days later in the evening.

Tags: asia, bangkok, chiang mai, mr whisky, north, thailand, travelling, travels, trek, tuk-tuk