My final training week is done, and after a lovely bit of tai chi, another amazing breakfast and my exam ending with another 98% (lost marks for pressure, dang it) I leave the International Training Massage School for Bangkok, certificates in hand. The journey to Bangkok is an overnight one, and is exhausting, considering all I am doing is sitting on a bus. After watching a bit of pirated Thai Jurassic World on my miniature screen I manage to get some sleep before arriving at the station at 5:00 in the morning. Bags dropped of at the hostel I find myself in the depths of Chatachuk Market, one of the biggest street markets in the world, and immediately I'm lost. I go around in circles, my only reference being the puppies being sold along a central street. Despite that the market is amazing. An ants nest of all sorts. Everything is sold here. You can find anything. It's mad. I get there early so manage to jump to initial rush of market goers, but hitting lunch time, it is hot and crowded and after a few hours I'm ready to bow out. After a Thai Massage 'Bangkok style' (which if you would like to know is much brisker than it's northern counter part), I'm off to Chinatown. Full of delicious food, I take my pick and settle down for the night. The journey and the early start have take their toll on my writing skills and keeping awake skills. So Good Night.
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Today had a wobbly start. Quite literally. My plan was to go to the Handicraft Centre in Bo Sang village. All along the street is factories and shops for Thai crafts. One can pay quite a bit of money and hire a taxi to take you from place to place and then back to Chiang Mai. But I wasn't going to fall into that trap. No, not I. I had the great idea of hiring a scooter. I trek to the scooter place and after some paperwork I jump on for a practice. How hard can it be; travellers do it all the time; most people driving scooters here don't even wear helmets; I've seen a woman breast feeding on a scooter: it must be easy. Well apparently for me it was not. I start of (wobbly being the descriptive word in use here) and nearly crash into a car, setting off its alarm in the process. My panic kicks in and says to me 'Drive faster, Flora. I'm sure it will help', my hands agree. Flying forwards, my panic decides to play chicken with a brick wall and thankfully the brick wall wins. I decide to take the taxi. And luckily I find a guy who agrees to take me there at a great price and after chatting for a while even decides to take me to all the factories rather than just dropping me off, which saves me a long walk. So to the first, it's a Thai silk factory. I arrive and a woman pounces on me, sticking a little silk pin on my chest. 'Sawadee Ka', she welcomes me and I get a little tour, seeing moths laying eggs and silk worms cocooning. The tour guide sets some silk on fire to show me how to tell the difference in a market. (It's by the smell - real silk smells like burning hair). I don't mention the orthodoxy of setting materials alight at markets. We move on and look at the way the silk is made. It's quite amazing. Made in magnificent looms, which take a week to set up and a week to make the silk. Women sit clack-clacking away like Baba Yaga and I quickly move on. We go to the next textile factory where a nice man tries to sell me beautiful and expensive scarves. Next into a little shop with all sorts of bamboo plates and bowls and sculpture. Black shining frogs and ducks glitter around me. And then onto the umbrella factory - the one I've been wanting to see most of all. I walk around to see the process. Materials are everywhere, newly covered umbrellas make a flower garden as they dry in the sun while their sibling skeletons make a graveyard. A woman hunched over keenly shapes wisps of wood which will go into to the structures. Another lies on her side, sleeping on a break. A dozen sit, ready to custom paint these wonders. It's glorious! The crafts of Thailand have been a beauty to experience in all their forms. In my time being here I've seen batik shops, covered floor to ceiling; wicker works, with chairs and baskets piled high; markets stock full with old and new crafts of all kinds. Clothes and soaps and bowls and etchings and weaving and prints and sculpture, pots and cups, cooking utensils made from rose wood, and art made from cow skin. Textiles filling streets, and umbrella parts covering floors, and silk worm cocoons pulled out from water. It has been beautiful. Now, I start my second and last week of the massage course and am pulled away from the markets back into the training room. I'm between a rock and a hard place, and they are both pretty fantastic. I'm stood hidden under plastic sheeting in the middle of the Saturday Market, attempting to keep out of the downpour of rain that has hit us. The perfect time to sum up this week! Which has been spent doing the first half of my Thai massage course. And I'm glad to say that I've passed the first exam with 98%. Yes, this means you all will be receiving a Thai Massage in the near future (yes, that includes you Budda!) And on top of that it will be 98% amazing. Sorry about the 2%. The days doing this course are lovely. I make my way to the school every day; a short stroll from my hostel, in which I pass a temple and a shrine clearly celebrating chickens. (Or the wake up call they give me in the morning). We start with a warm up of yoga or Tai Chi, finishing in a rather strange Tai Chi combo dance with funky music including the theme tune from Notting Hill. That definitely gives a sentimental lift to my morning. Next is a short break when I can stuff my cheeks with mini bananas and milo, all while chatting to the lovely people who are training with me. And then it's onto class. There's a demonstration in which the teachers show us the unusual and, may I say, intimate moves; the teachers say 'Na Ha' a lot and we all nod in a worryingly confident fashion. And then we practice. Practice is what it's all about. And let me tell you, one gets to know ones partner very quickly. But it's fun and the day is spent testing and learning new skills. Luckily we have a handy note book which gives us the stretches in the style of stick men drawing. A true masterpiece that we have to colour in every night in order to pass. It's a truly boring process which gets me to sleep pretty quickly. Maybe that's their trick for a healthy mind! But by Friday morning it's done. Lots of mind numbing colouring and muscle aching practise and I'm there and ready to take my exam. Fridays mornings Tai Chi is taken in what Stephanie (also training) calls 'The Dead Fish Park'. Thankfully, I did not observe the dead fish and instead took in the beauty of doing those calm, flowing movements in the warm morning air. After, we are whipped back to the school on a bus and are given a feast of sticky rice and mango and all kinds of delicious ripe fruit and banana cake and of corse milo. And then it's the exam. Feeling rather bloated, I'm not quite in the mood to be stretching or be stretched for that matter. But it must be done. And done well it was. The day is rounded of with a lovely evening spent chatting with the girls on the course. Today's stroll around the city made for a pretty fab day. And now I'm stuck in a market. And it's still raining. There is no looking, there is no seeing, No thinking and responding, No pondering at these hundred year old buildings, There is no reasoning about this history, No inspecting it's gold guilding, No wondering at tiles shining. There is only Selfie. The precious equipment we bow down to is the selfie stick in the temple. My pouting face and peace sign must be recorded in the temple. Five seconds, I find the right pose and then I've seen it all. Through chimes and bell, And fervent calls, There is only Selfie. Behind me is the Buddha smiling, I shall do the Buddha pose, Behind me is the Buddha smiling, This will look great on Facebook. The family shot, I cannot object. We stand together, our arms erect. Ignore the quiet praying man, We can show this to our clan. Quick let's move on and get away, I want a Selfie in every temple today, (there's ten of them, hurry up). 'Goodbye Monks', who devote your daily life to self-reflection, humbleness and prayer. 'Goodbye,' say the monks, 'and God Bless Selfie'. - A poem of reflection by Flora Longley-Cook What a few days in Chiang Mai. It's calm and serene here. The old city, which is a confusing (to me) square on the map, is filled with temple after temple. So much of my time has been sitting in their grounds reading and taking in the calm atmosphere, occasionally chatting to a passing monk. Yesterday, I met a lovely girl called Phoebe! Unfortunately not my favourite one, but she will do for Chiang Mai, and we popped out to the Saturday Night Market. She had some insider knowledge due to her sister living here after going traveling and getting married after a couple of months to a 'jungle boy', as she puts it. So we were able to weave our way through the crowded streets. It was buzzing, alive with energy, I thought it was big... Today I arrived at the Sunday Night Market. This filled almost all if the old town. Every street filled with food vendors and clothes and art and pots and scarves and fans and carvings and noise and people. It's amazing being surrounded by throngs of sellers and buyers, with beautiful things at my fingertips! I start talking with a seller about some utensils and suddenly she freezes. Odd. I turn to realise the whole market has frozen. Everyone has stopped and everything is quiet. It's come true, something I've always feared. The world has come to a stand still and I'm the only one left who can move! Nope, it's just the Thai national anthem that we have to stop and listen to and as soon as it's finished the buzz is back again and we are straight back on about the utensils material. After two and a half hours I think, and my feet agree, that I'm done exploring the market. I make one final pitstop: Dad will be jealous and proud of my quail egg supper today. A squirt of soy sauce and I'm off back to the hostel to prep for the start of my Thai massage course tomorrow.
Before my long journey that started yesterday, I was able to catch the last beauty of Phuket. I made my way down early to catch the first of the big parades in the city. It's quiet, and these events seem to be quite elusive, with locals only guessing when they start, so I head to catch some breakfast in the market. Then the streets suddenly fill with regimented people in white. They make their way through the market followed with van after van, either screeching out celebration music on their speakers, or filled with boys playing drums and cymbals. Then come more, now groups surround eccentrically dressed leaders carrying small flags, which they pass over the heads of bowing onlookers. The leaders either dance, barefoot and erratically around the street or move swiftly forward with pursed lips and shaking heads. All to the beating and clashing of the music. Next comes the pierced. And when I say 'the pierced' I mean men with pierced cheeks. And pierced with all sorts of things. First just pins. They bleed as shake their heads and are supported by crews of men in white who pour water and oil onto the wounds. But it's not just pins. It's spikes, swords, poles; two men walk together, one chain going through both of them. And the most extreme and bizarre: men with beach umbrellas through their cheeks. Quite literally carrying open beach umbrellas who's poles are spiked and are in their cheeks. They move onwards and then come idols surrounded by burning incense sat on ornate thrones carried by more sweating men (did I mention it's incredibly hot from the sun, the heat from the market, and the burning incense). On they go and finally the dragons arrive (only puppets unfortunately), who hop from stall to stall collecting 'tokens' (money) from the hard working vendors. The whole thing is mad and loud and painful and exciting. The rest of the day is spent walking through the lovely old town: popping into galleries and coffee shops and book shops. It's just lovely, the tradition balanced out with the new, modern vibe. What a place. An unexpectedly long days travel yesterday left me tired and frustrated. Bites on my feet and a crick in my neck, I arrived in the dark of night in Old Phuket Town. Not expecting much I tramped into the hostel which happily happened to be rather nice. Well that's good. And then I pop out with Chloe, a girl I met in my dorm who mentioned the market (part of the Vegetarian Festival that I have come to see). And that's when I realise I've come to the right place. We stroll down, following the Chinese lanterns that line the lovely streets and arrive in the market, surrounded by a mass of people dressed head to toe in white. Food surrounds me. Incredible food. All different, every stall, and all vegetarian. The tantalising smells hit my nostrils and I must seek out their origin, but as I do more and different and beautiful smells hit me, pulling me by my nose down the street. Noodles are just the start! Sweet treats: sesame rolls filled with strawberry, blueberry, and bean; coconut ice cream; gooey coconut balls with lumps of sugar; sugar like candy floss wrapped in pancakes - both bright green. Beautiful and scrumptious. And more, elephant tusk mango on rice; sticky rice filled bamboo; light fried potatoe balls; freshly made spring rolls; spicy corn bahjis and orange juice and rasberry juice and sugar cane juice. It goes on and on in the long street. The next day is the same. Decked out in my newly bought white attire I make my way out with Chloe. Breakfast is sticky rice with mango and coconut milk. We look around the chinese shrines which are filled with sounds and smoke of firecrackers and then we're back. Lunch is huge. I just want to try everything and it costs me around a pound to fill my hands with bags of food. I probably shouldn't have done that as the end of the day is spent nursing my full tummy. But before that I venture down the old streets. Phuket is an incredible place. It's the perfect mixture of old and new without any tackiness. The only people pushing to sell are the tuktuk drivers. Chic cafés sit next to old work shops selling rope and wire. Material shops filled with batik next to small eateries with plastic table cloths. It's beautiful. It feels european, cosmopolitan. It's a wonderful place to be. Today was as you can imagine a day might be on a small island with a beautiful beach. A similar ending to yesterday, I sat tonight looking out onto the sea. This time attempting to take a picture of this scene by which I could show you it's loveliness, with a camera not fit for that purpose. So I will attempt to describe it to you in a short passage: The stars make dimples in the black mass of sky suspended above me; the shining pin pricks are ordered in constellations I do not recognise. The sky is huge, when I look up, only my peripheral has anything other than that light spotted blackness. The ships sit on the horizon like glowing green birds on a wire, bobbing in and out of vision as they encounter waves I can only dream of. The sea - a deep dark blue, reflecting its neighbour in size - inches tentatively towards me, betraying itself by its white fringes. Framed by silent islands, the black and the blue, the twinkling yellow and green, the crashing white, create a collage of serenity. I hope you can see what I see. If not the picture may suffice. So, today started beautifully and ended much the same. Body-clock being set as an early riser, I get to the beach by 10 and am sitting on a pretty empty stretch of white sand with warm waves lapping at my feet. The awkwardness of applying suncream as a one-person-party, doubled with my hate of applying it in the first place, shows itself after a few hours basking and reading in the sun. Lobster patches appear randomly on my body. I take that as a sign to head back to the hostel for a little bit of cool. There I meet Echa. A sweet Malay girl who's here on holiday, alone as well. We chat and it turns out she has rented a car and I can pop around the island with her if I like. And I do like, especially as there are sites on the opposite side and public transport is lacking in Langkawi. So we make our way first to Kuah Town. She has to pop to a few shops - a chocolate shop to be precise (Langkawi is duty free and chocolate is very expensive where she lives) and a bag shop to buy a bag for the chocolate. I dribble as I watch her stock up on nutella! We visit the places I suggest. Mainly the black sand beach in the north, and it is nice. Pretty, but a sad picture to look at, beautiful trees and gorgeous black sand made from broken down granite slabs are watched from afar by oil decks and ships. With a bag of sand in my pocket we make our way back to Pantai Cenang. After catching a Malay meal we stroll down the white beach. It is calm and quiet and we walk with the sounds of the waves and the candle light from the cafés beside us. We turn back after mistakenly walking to far into the 'posh area' and realising that they were listening to awfully sung live 80's music with the magical backing track of a keyboarder, lucky them! Now here I sit, looking out onto the waves and the small green lights which are (from what I am told from BoBo - the bar manager) calamari ships: they'll bring in the load for tomorrow's night market. With the ocean in front of me and trance like music behind, I sit here happy. The sheesha pipe man dances to the beat of his own drum in a corner and my mind dances with him as I relax into this beautiful scene. |