I wasn’t sure I was making the right choice when I crossed the street and rented a new Honda Elite motor scooter. Then something magical happened. The moment I straddled the seat and began to drive off, an old Beach Boy classic from the distant past started echoing in my brain. First gear -- its alright, second gear – lean right, third gear -- hang on tight … faster …
I suppose it’s true, I have no idea how old I am. My mind flashes back and forth in time like Kurt Vonnagut’s, Slaughterhouse Five. Two hours ago I was feeling nineteen, riding a motor scooter complete with a magical Beach Boy’s soundtrack and now I’m sixty-two plugging away at my Apple keyboard trying to put the experience in context. Back to the narrative – I had to find a bookstore to buy a map so I’d have some idea of where I’d be scooting too. I remembered walking passed a small used bookstore called Gecko Books on Wednesday, it was somewhere in the inner city. Why not try and find it, I thought? What a perfectly dumb way to learn how to ride a scooter, head right for the worse traffic in the heart of the city, mix with the locals, smile at the pretty girls on motorbikes waiting for the light to change at intersections, try not to make an utter fool of yourself, and as Nike says, just do it.
I finally figured out this town and learned the local traffic regulations at the same time. Drive on the wrong side of the street. A double yellow line indicates the best places to make U-turns. Traffic Lights exist to slow down other people, and the flashing red lights at busy corners – I have no idea what they’re for because everyone seems to ignore them.
The inner city is surrounded by a moat or cannel as the locals call it. It’s in the shape of a square and has a one-way street that runs along each side. Hundreds of years ago the moat was dug directly in front of a high brick wall used to defend the city from attacking mongrels. The only remains of the wall are located at the four corners. The moat remains intact without the alligators or what ever else they had swimming in it at the time. A dozen or so stone gates with arches bisect the moat and connect the inner city to the outside world. How do I know this? I rode around it five times trying to figure out how to escape before I realized I was going in square circles.
Overnight I’ve been transformed from the accidental tourist to a world traveler. Paul Theroux once said, “A tourist knows where they’re going; a traveler only knows where they’ve been”. Deep in thought and lost in mind I find the road I’m looking for and begin my climb upward -- toward the lingering clouds hovering at the top like a wet blanket ready to destroy this beautiful day. I scoot pass the University of Chiang Mai, the hospital and the city zoo. Engraving them to memory for the university and the zoo might make for an interesting side trip. The road narrows and traffic dissolves to only a few Sorng-taa-ou’s that appear to be transporting monks to the Wat Lok Molee at the top of the mountain. This is a famous tourist attraction because it is one of the very few forest wats that exist. The Wat Lok Molee is an old temple dating back to the 1300’s. The sixth Lanna King of the Mengrai Dynasty invited a group of ten monks from Burma to practice and teach Buddhism in his kingdom. He built this wat for them. I wish I had friends like that.
About four kilometers later I take a side road on impulse after noticing a sign that reads Mon Thaa Than Falls. This entire climb reminds me of Flagstaff Mountain as I pass mountain bikers in colorful riding apparel. The temperature drops considerably and I realize I should have brought along some warmer clothes. On the dirt road in front of me the early morning haze begins to lift like translucent skeletons returning to their graves -- I continue to climb.
It didn’t take long, about five seconds after mounting this scooter that I realized I should have done this a week ago. I feel alive, living in the moment; this is no hallucination, my body and mind are finally in harmony. This is no different than riding a bicycle except I don’t have to pedal.
I’m gathering my thoughts and writing this post in my bathing suit while enjoying my poolside curry. My adventure is over for the day. I stopped on the way back and paid a second visit to the rental shop, negotiating a weekly rate of 150 baht a day. I plan to keep the scooter until I leave on the twentieth. Serendipity, how I love a word that dances, I knew there was a reason I brought my cycling helmet, sunglasses and riding gloves on this trip.
Over the next week my boundaries will expand to the neighboring countryside and beyond. The elephant is not only loose but also running amok with a frivolous determination of a giggling teenager on the last day of school. Now, where did I put Anna’s telephone number?
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