We're up and outside fractionally after seven, the time we're supposed to be picked up -- and moments after we turn down the offer of breakfast the van turns up. A short while later we have a full van and are heading north to the Golden Triangle, a mysterious place steeped in legend, crossing broders, infamously tied with opium. There's a Dutch couple just back from one of the many 3 day/2 night treks involving trekking, rafting, hanging on to elephants etc., a very nice Frenchman hobbling about on a shattered ankle, an effete well travelled young man (Anthony?) from Singapore and another British couple. The British couple spend the entire journey discussing their status from which I gather their budget is £300 per month (no wonder they baulked at paying the equivalent of B400 -- US$8 -- for a guesthouse in Singapore but also explains that that kind of dedication to low expenses lets you travel the world on a pittance for a year, say, £4000 whereas we've spent £10,000 each in six months) over which they're still racking up credit card bills and, as with so many people who fail to realise what a credit card is, think the best solution for them is to cut them up.
Our first stop is at a Hot Spring, in this case, when the steam clears, a circular pool about 10ft across and a foot deep which stays at around 85C. This prompts the locals to dip eggs of all natures in for the requisite 5 minutes then flog them to the tourists lost in the 100+ souvenir stalls surrounding this rather insignificant site. Another key reason for the group being [here] that there is a toilet. We then head up into the mountains where, surprisingly, a number of Swiss chalet style buildings appear as we sweep round sharp bends with some abandon.
The hill tribes are nomadic tree clearers, though the rather devastating side effects of this, near bald hills, means that the Thai government tries to keep them in one place and replace their previous incomes with tourism. The rather obvious side effect is two fold: the hill tribes you see (on these easy tours) are no representation of their culture and secondly tourist income via the extensive curio/craft markets that dominate these villages means that the canny entrepreneur can replace his wood and straw hut with a nice tin/brick one that lasts for tens of years rather than one or two.
Skipping Chaing Rai and effectively Chiang Saen (all three Chiangs having been former capitals [of Thailand]) we arrived in Sop Ruak though you wouldn't know it as it is synonymous with the Golden Triangle. The Golden Triangle isn't quite what I thought and is, in fact, a large sandbank at the mouth of a tributary dividing Thailand and Myanmar of the Mekong river [the far bank of the Mekong is Laos]. The Thais don't like the Myanmar (Burmese) partially because Myanmar means "winner" and is a snub at the Thais. Opium was cultivated all around these parts (a good climate -- apparently the fourth crop of the year after rice, peanuts and tobacco) but the Thais and Laos clamped down whereas the Myanmar government made it legal ultimately leaving the local population with no other source of income. The sandbank is so famous because it lies, ooh twenty yards off Myanmar and thirty off Thailand [and about a hundred and fifty off Laos] in International waters and as such is a great place to trade [inter alia, tax free] in, say, opium. Opium value being compared to gold and given the approximate shape of the sandbank, the Golden Triangle. The Mekong river looking north from Thai side. Laos is the right hand bank, Myanmar is looking hazy straight ahead. The Golden Triangle proper is indistincly visible above the left hand boat. More obvious is a thin strip of green that is the next grass covered sandbank. No activity today as we sped past in a longboat though we were assured that trade is still good. The Myanmar have built a huge casino of all things just up from the sandbank though you have to be a member to go in -- "blood money" someone commented.
As a little treat we trotted ashore at DonSao Island, a souvenir village in Laos where we handed over B20 for a walking [immigration] pass to see the wierd health beverages they sell. Mostly, it appears, snake whiskey where your whiskey contains a snake. Fangs for the drink. Beats a worm in a bottle of Tequila anyday. Sadly no stamp in the passport but Laos is country 17 (excluding Europe).
Onto Mae Sai, including the northernmost point of Thailand which you reach by going behind the customs and immigration buildings into what should be no-man's land but it's carefully fenced off for that photo opportunity, which I didn't take. Helen, despite instructions from our guide not to hand over more than B30 (yes, 50p) for a ring, shelled out B200. Well, I guess it won't break the bank. As we waited for three of our colleagues to return from Myanmar -- Mae Sai is a popular day trip border crossing, in this instance a little scam to extend their Thai visas -- a man started shouting into a megaphone and hundreds of people piled onto the six or seven coaches in front of us. It turned out to be part of a party of 23 coaches of Southern Thailanders up here for the cheap goods.
It's a long journey back, three hours in all, and we're grateful to be turfed off first. Some spicy nosh and a couple of beers and it's time for bed. We have to be up early not just for the bus but to find out where we catch the bus from...
Home Place Hotel, Chiang Mai N18.78697 E98.99442 Elev. 292m Home Place Hotel, Chiang Mai
Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.
