Tourists in Northern Thailand flocked to the convergence of the Mekong and Mai Klong Rivers in expectation of seeing the notorious Golden Triangle. Most express deep disappointment that there aren’t any opium dens from which they can watch the flow of the Mekong River. A few harass the riverside shop owners for a taste. “Four hours on a bus and all I can buy is a tee-shirt.”
Baan Sop Ruak is only a tourist trap, although years ago you could sit in the bungalows of Chiang Saen 10 kilometers to the south and smoke yourself into a narcotic coma for weeks on end. Back in 1991 I stayed at guesthouse where a Japanese tourist didn’t emerge from his room for two weeks. The owner and I thought he might be dead and knocked on the door. A groan was followed by footsteps. The door opened with a creak. The Japanese backpacker was whiter than a mushroom. He smiled and said, “Mai pen arai.”
“No problem.” The owner shrugged his shoulders without the slightest sign of condemnation. It was low season and Thaksin’s War on Drugs was years away. I don’t think the Jap ever got to Baan Sop Ruak. He had found his Golden Triangle in a 100baht/night bungalow. I’m waiting to find mine in my 80s.
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posted on Thursday, September 13th, 2007 at 12:07 am and filed under Travel -
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Tourists in Northern Thailand flocked to the convergence of the Mekong and Mai Klong Rivers in expectation of seeing the notorious Golden Triangle. Most express deep disappointment that there aren’t any opium dens from which they can watch the flow of the Mekong River. A few harass the riverside shop owners for a taste. “Four hours on a bus and all I can buy is a tee-shirt.”
Baan Sop Ruak is only a tourist trap, although years ago you could sit in the bungalows of Chiang Saen 10 kilometers to the south and smoke yourself into a narcotic coma for weeks on end. Back in 1991 I stayed at guesthouse where a Japanese tourist didn’t emerge from his room for two weeks. The owner and I thought he might be dead and knocked on the door. A groan was followed by footsteps. The door opened with a creak. The Japanese backpacker was whiter than a mushroom. He smiled and said, “Mai pen arai.”
“No problem.” The owner shrugged his shoulders without the slightest sign of condemnation. It was low season and Thaksin’s War on Drugs was years away. I don’t think the Jap ever got to Baan Sop Ruak. He had found his Golden Triangle in a 100baht/night bungalow. I’m waiting to find mine in my 80s.
For a related article click on this URL
http://www.mangozeen.com/on-the-road-alone.htm
posted on Thursday, September 13th, 2007 at 12:07 am and filed under Travel -
comments feed | leave a comment | trackback url
Be the first person to leave a comment.
