First Impressions of Chiang Mai

Do you remember the first time you took a ride in a tuk tuk, paid a visit to a Thai toilet, went to the market or tailor's or were introduced to the culinary delight of the ice-cream sandwich? (Who would ever have thought of putting a layer of ice-cream between two slices of bread for a snack?) Well, allow me to share with you some recollections and amusing stories of my first impressions and experiences of Chiang Mai. It's okay; I can laugh about them now.

I found that getting anywhere by foot was a perilous business in Chiang Mai, because Thai people don't really go in for pavements, and when they do, they aren't really intended for walking on, rather for putting things on. Any spare bit of pavement lying around is just asking to have a stall of some variety set up on it. You need your wits about you whilst stepping over piles of sleeping dogs, ducking the smoke fumes from sizzling meat stalls and trying to persuade the taxi drivers that "tuk tuk" is not the answer to everything. Pavements are more of an obstacle course than a means of getting from A to B and on the market streets it's very easy to become trapped in a queue for something you don't want.

But the real fun begins when you need to cross the street. Unless you are lucky enough to tag onto the end of a troop of monks, the only way to guarantee your safe arrival on the other side is to find a zebra crossing and march resolutely across, unvarying your pace as the motorcycles weave in and out of you and the cars accelerate towards you.

The back streets are often a healthier option, with the lush banana and teak trees suppressing both noise and fumes alike. Instead of the traffic, now it's just a couple of kids playing badminton in the middle of the road that you have to contend with. The prospect of being clattered on the head by a shuttlecock is far less daunting than that of being bulldozed by a speeding tuk tuk, mauled by a pack of hungry dogs or finding oneself at the front of a queue for bamboo worms.

I decided that perhaps, getting about my motorbike would be a better option, however, I hadn't reckoned on having to chicane my way through a group of strategically positioned sleeping dogs. Nor was I warned about the crazy drivers who wait until you are about to turn, before attempting to undertake. On my first attempt, my Thai co-worker, the housekeeper, the gardener, assorted passersby, the neighbours, the neighbours' children, guests, cats, dogs and chickens all came out to enjoy the spectacle as I uncouthly stalled my way down the driveway accompanied by hoots and roars of laughter.

If you fancy a bit of an adrenaline rush, it's good idea to board a tuk tuk for a hair-raising rollarcoaster ride. Haggling for the price of a taxi ride was a new experience for me and ducking my head as I got in and out was a bit of a challenge. If the driver is unfamiliar with your destination then this could present a problem, but once you get a map out then your know you're done for. Map reading is a foreign concept to tuk tuk drivers. On one occasion, after peering at the map for several minutes, the driver asked, "is this Chiang Mai?" I clung on for dear life as we hurtled by in a blur, weaving wildly in and out of the traffic, leaving a trail of stinking exhaust in our wake.

My first clothes shopping experience was a bit of an ordeal. Having always been considered slim, I did not expect to have trouble finding clothes to fit me or having to purchase items in an extra large. Nor was buying shoes made any easier by my apparently hobbit-sized feet. Not to worry though, you can always get clothes specially designed and made for you at one of the many tailor shops, I thought. However, when a friend of mine went to collect her dress from the tailor's, there was a big surprise in store for her. Evidently there had been a slight communication problem as the dressmaker had thought fitting to add contrasting spring green cuffs to a bright purple floral dress. I guess there's no accounting for taste.

The concept of planning or warning you in advance is not a familiar one to residents of Chiang Mai. For example, building work once began abruptly directly outside my office window without so much as a word. It was amusing to see the washing line in use one day when nobody in the house had done any laundry. I guess it's all part of the friendly chilled out atmosphere. When a strange man let himself into the house one evening when I was alone and started going through my underwear draw with a flashlight, I was a little perturbed at first but took it all in my stride. It turned out he was just the Rentokil bloke, looking for vermin.

My first visit to a Thai toilet was also a bit of an eye opener. The most immediate question being "which way round are you meant to stand on this thing?" Thankfully, I found that I was not alone in this puzzling dilemma. I had certainly never had to flush a toilet with a bucket of water before either. The next problem is how to dispose of the toilet paper when you can't flush it down the lavatory and there isn't a bin provided and what is the shower thing attached to the wall supposed to be for?

However I choose to travel or whatever I choose to do, I have come to accept that being pointed, stared and laughed at is just all part of the everyday experience of being a farang in Chiang Mai. At least I can seek solace in the fact that I am a constant source of entertainment to others without even having to try. It's all just a matter of adapting and learning to say "mai pen rai" in the face of adversity. One thing's for certain: without all these unique eccentricities life here would not be nearly so vibrant or so carefree.