Drifting away

I was lucky enough to sit next to a real Thai woman on the flight to Bangkok. I liked her attitude. She was delicately respectful, yet without undue deference. She was spontaneously amused and amusing. She was particularly courteous to the cabin crew when they served her. She used both hands to receive things from them, even though one would have been easier. They in turn treated her with noticeably more respect than the rest of us. You get what you give. It reminded me of the Zulus back in South Africa. They have a similar custom of receiving with both hands - to show they don't have a knife to stab you with in the other.

A vicious head-cold attacked me without any warning. It was to be a battle lasting a week. I reluctantly turned my back to her to prevent collateral damage.

I took my dribbling nose and pockets full of tissues on a metered taxi ride from Chiang Mai Airport to Parami Guest House. We skirted the western and northern moats of the old city, crossed the Ping river and arrived - 75 bhat (£1 = 50) for what I had already noticed was an unusually grand form of public transport, the driver ecstatic with a 10 bhat tip. I was welcomed by Roger and his wife Ari. I'd guess they're both in their thirties. He's Swiss, originally from Zurich and she's Thai. Is there a better combination for the hospitality business?

Parami is remote from the clusters of guest houses, hotels, tourist bars and expat hang-outs. It was what I wanted. I wanted to be amongst the Thais, where they live and eat and shop, where they are the customers. I could cross the Ping at a pedestrian bridge directly into the corner of Warorrot Market where fruit and flowers are sold. It's the Chinese market of Chiang Mai. It's a labyrinth. They sell everything. Few tourists venture into it. Beyond is the Night Bazaar surrounded by big hotels, Starbucks, Burger King, Pizza Hut, McDonalds and restaurants where Thai food is adjusted to Western palates. Everything sold in the Night Bazaar is bought in Warorrot and resold at a higher price. And then there's the eastern entrance to the old city through Thapae gate. The old city, surrounded by the bustling, modern city is surprisingly tranquil, almost rural in atmosphere. With dribbling nose and aching sinuses I wasn't enjoying myself, but I'm always curious. I did a lot of walking and while my consciousness was mostly concerned with finding more tissues, the other side of my brain was looking and looking, and doing it's own obscure uncontrolled kind of thinking. Then it made a weird move and I came close to panic.

I was lying on my bed, dozing off when I felt myself drifting away. I've had a similar feeling when I was very young - a kind of transcendental meditation - the sense that my consciousness had separated from my body. This was similar but not the same. My consciousness - my identity was not only drifting away - it was leaving. I grabbed for it like one would grab for the leash of a dog as it tried to slink out the door and into the night. While I hung on I was wondering what would happen if I really did let go. What would leave? My sanity? What would remain? A part of my brain was trying to evict the concept I had of myself, the conclusions from every triumph and every tragedy, all my unhealed wounds, all my obsessions and hang-ups. I couldn't let them go! Why? Because that is how I define myself. How else could I? And... and I need them to finish the bloody book. That's what it's all about. I tightened the leash and it returned reluctantly. I felt a strange sensation that I should have let go while the door was open.

I did something after that which in retrospect had a connection. I put my tent, sleeping bag, coat, jacket and jersey into the suitcase and donated it to the guest house staff. The battle with my cold was over and I wandered off into the old city.