The September Issue

September has been a hard month to come to terms with. It means finishing (another) semester of molding young Bandon Sriserm minds in the shape of ABCs and present perfect tense. It will be saying goodbye to a few fellow foreign teachers in town, who are off to teach in other exciting places next term. And most regrettably, last week, it was the loss of my grandpa, James C.N. Paul – international humanitarian, storyteller extraordinaire, and avid CP in Thailand reader. He is sorely, sorely missed from this side of the globe. 

But time has a way of charging forward and onward like motorbiking Thais at a loosely-marked intersection; and while I sat in denial of the calendar date, this past month filled up with quite the spread of travel, eating, motorbike adventuring, waterfall swimming, carnival-hopping and karaoking. Here’s a recap.

Another Caitlin-Hannah reunion in Thailand
... A little stranger this time around.

At the end of August, I took an impromptu weekend trip to the city of Phitsanulok to see my college friend Hannah, who has been teaching in Vientiane, Laos the past year (she visited Nan last January). Phitsanulok is nacho-yo-average Thai vacation destination - it's a small industrial city along the southern Nan River, bleak and grey for the most part, with little to attract tourists other than being a major transit hub and playing host to one famous Buddha statue. The general reaction of Thai friends to my trip was, "Why you go to there?" - and the answer was, simply, that ol' P'lok lies equidistant from Nan and Vientiane on the Thai bus route. So, a 6-hour trip each later, Hannah and I found ourselves there sitting in a small bakery aptly named "It Is Cake," waiting out a torrential rainstorm, catching up on our respective Southeast Asian lives over sweet coffee, noodles, and local-brand water bottles labelled Water Surprise (this is a city which could really use a PR office).

Later that evening, after sifting through stalls at the partially-flooded Phitsanulok night market, Hannah and I went to grab a beer at a place called "Thank You Pub" (the sign reading "WELCOME TO THANK YOU"). It featured Cowboys n' Indians decor, a sinewy hippie singing Beatles tunes on stage, and a heavily intoxicated middle-aged Thai woman named Po who joined our table uninvited and repeatedly insisted we were being stood up on a date. Thankfully, an hour later our "date" did show up - an American guy teaching in Phitsanulok whom I'd met in July, when he was traveling through Nan. He rescued us from Po to show us the ins and outs of nightlife in Phitsanulok - not unsimilar to nightlife in Nan (nightclubs: 1, drink menu: cheap whisky and bad beer) - and the three of us spent the rest of the night at an outdoor live music bar, hanging with the house band in between their sets (one guy had an UNCANNY ability to sing exactly like Steven Tyler), and getting signed copies of their recently-released 10 year anniversary album. Facebook friendships naturally ensued.

Keeping the Best Bakery in business

The following week was Steph’s birthday, and to celebrate we went all out with a dinner party at a new restaurant in town. 17 of us – Cho and Arm, their reluctant Cake (who ironically hates cake, including the birthday variety); our Flood Week supply-bringing hero, Dan; our Thai friend Lak and her boyfriend Matt; the other foreign teachers Will, Ali, and Ada; Benz and Bas; Steph’s parents who were visiting; and the four of us - piled in bearing gifts, homemade cards, and a few too many cakes from the "Best Bakery." Afterwards, Steph’s parents treated Benz, Bas, Will, Ali and us to a night of karaoke at the Dheveraj Hotel – the classiest karaoke you can find in Nan. We covered an assortment of Thai screamo, Destiny’s Child, and “Stand By Me,” and to keep things eclectic, Bas closed with a rendition of THIS "Happy Birthday" song.

Chedi Chedi Bang Bang

Steph’s parents stayed in Nan for the week, and that Friday, we joined them in Chiang Mai for continued birthday celebrating. After road tripping there with Lak and Matt (cramming 6 people into their Honda CR-V = still preferable to the frigid bus ride...), we were treated to some seriously luxurious accommodation at The Chedi, one of the nicest hotels in Thailand, and probably the coolest place I'll stay in all my Asia tenure. Forget the fluffy white beds, zen gardens, and infinity pool edging the Ping River, though… This place came with a FREE breakfast buffet complete with an ASSORTED REAL CHEESE PLATTER. Forget you, Lonely Planet backpacker scene.

Nan weekends of late have been spent exploring our fair province beyond its city limits - to the contemporary art gallery that sits along a stunning hillside 30 km outside of town; to a "cave forest park" I never knew existed; and a few weekends ago, to a waterfall in Pua district, about an hour away. A group of us took motorbikes there, and spent the afternoon cooling off in the shallow water pools (well, sitting on rocks and fighting a pretty heavy current, trying not to get sucked down the rapids - it happened twice), napping on sunbathed rocks, and attempting to teach Bas to swim. 

How Sundays should be spent

In town, last week kicked off the annual Nan Boat Racing Festival, and with it, an enormous fair that took over the entire riverside area. Neon-colored merry-go-rounds and muay Thai boxing rings replaced the empty lot where old ladies in matching-colored shirts usually perform nightly aerobics. An enormous strand of vendors occupied the quiet riverside block near our house, and until late at night would blast Thai keyboardist tunes while selling such oddities as men’s underwear, bunnies dressed in ballerina costumes, yo-yos, dried squid on sticks, hedgehogs for pets, DVD footage of the 2005 tsunami wreckage, and on-site tattoos (and one could hear the needle buzzer going at almost all hours of day behind a clumsily-hung tarp. Hep C, anyone?).

Carnie folk are back in town

The festival was loud, smelly, and brought in a host of unsavory “carnie” folk into town – Liza’s bike was stolen at the fair last Friday – in NAN!?!? But, being the event of the season, we made the best of it. I braved the rickety ferris wheel to make faces down at my giggling 6^th grade students watching below.  I sampled my fair share of fair food (the fried pork sticks can sometimes be irresistible). I even paid 10 baht to see an exhibit boasting a two-headed cow, people-shaped fruit, and a bodiless talking head – because who, really, could resist.

Last Sunday I actually got around to watching the boat races (never been a great sports enthusiast, even in Asia). Liza and I went early to find seats, and joined a group of middle-aged ex-Army men, who grinned toothless smiles and gave us dry newspaper sheets to sit on, gladly having us cheer for their team. Even at 8 am, the riverside was loud and lively. Teams practiced on one edge of the river, heaving their dragon-headed longboats forward in a familiar unison: nueng! sawng! saam!, while actual races happened on the other side, two boats slipping quickly through the brown waters to the finish, every 5 minutes or so. The concrete steps where we sat were lined with cheering fans of all ages and sizes; huge banners hung from the bridges; vendors walked about selling sticky rice in hallowed bamboo tubes; and an oppressively loud-voiced announcer shouted on the loudspeaker. 

A half hour later, we were caught in a massive rainstorm – the overhead tent leaking all around us – and with only our newspaper-seats for protection, we had to bike home soaking wet.  It may be nearing the end of September already, but we're still anxiously awaiting the change of seasons.