No hot water again. I make a trip to hotel reception to explain the problem and an operative arrives in five minutes and fixes the problem within fifteen. A repairs service any DLO manager would be proud of.
Kate comes out of the shower singing ‘Say Hello, Wave Goodbye’ which has become our holiday anthem as a result of Marc Almond being awarded an OBE in the New Year honours and David Gray (who covered it) playing in the background at David’s Kitchen two nights ago. I assume that is why Kate is singing it. Either that or she has decided to dump me.
Our flight to Bangkok is in the evening and the day has a ‘we’re waiting around to catch a flight’ feel about it. We go to Chiang Mai Zoo, partly to fill the day but partly because we’ve had our fill of temples. We are templed out. The entrance fee to the zoo is only 150 baht, or about £3.50 compared with around £45 for San Diego Zoo, which we visited last year and were underwhelmed by given how much it talked itself up. However, there’s a 100 baht supplement to visit the pandas at Chiang Mai and you can hire a golf cart by the hour to drive around the zoo (we do visit the pandas but decide not to attempt a Tiger Woods impression) so the costs here can mount up.
The zoo has an impressive sitting, being located in 200 acres of countryside in the hills and at certain points offering a fine vantage point of the smog enveloping Chiang Mai for most of the day. Parts of it make me feel we are on the set of Jurassic Park just before the T. rex breaks loose as there’s a winding road and banana trees and not a lot else.
A few dinosaurs would enliven the place, to be honest. I’m reminded of a friend who visited Chester Zoo and complained to the staff ‘where’s your stock?’ because he was so disappointed at the paucity of what was on display. Chester Zoo is a veritable treasure trove compared with Chiang Mai.
Several of the animals seem happy enough. The macaws seem very content, perched in an enclosure from which they could escape but choose not too. But the Malaysian sun bears seem very sad. I’m very pro zoo, believing that if people see more of these animals close up they might be less inclined to show no interest in their welfare or – worse – want to shoot them. But the Chiang Mai zoo isn’t the best, as several animals seem to be kept on their own in enclosures that are dirty and not well maintained. The marsh crocodile, who likes brackish water, seems very content though and was the biggest reptile I’ve ever seen in captivity. Sweetly, he had a turtle nestling up to him. Or possibly hiding under his chin.
We get a taxi back to Chiang Mai. Taxis in Chiang Mai are covered pick up trucks who can charge up to 200 baht for chartered passengers but then will pick up additional non chartered passengers at 30 baht a pop. It’s a very efficient way of operating taxis, as it means they rarely travel with only one or two passengers, and an idea UK taxis should adopt. I pitch the idea to Kate, suggesting that taxis could pick up a fare and then display their destination as they go along in order to try and attract further passengers. ‘You’re describing a bus,’ says Kate.
We end up having our last meal in Chiang Mai at a restaurant near our hotel which has an array of Chinese red lanterns on its verandah and sumptuous decor inside. Unfortunately, the restaurant plays hip hop or grime or underground music (I use the shorthand ‘shite’) as background music which is just too loud. We quickly move on to another bar for a final drink in Chiang Mai before it is time to leave for our flight.
We get a taxi to Chiang Mai airport which is just outside the old city and perhaps ten minutes from our hotel. Chiang Mai has s laid back vibe – no Thais ever seem to lose their temper and no car or taxi drivers ever sound their horns, despite vehicles cutting each other up and changing lanes on a moment by moment basis – which is part of its appeal.
The flight to Bangkok is short and uneventful, helped in part by the three alcoholic drinks consumed in the previous two hours – by me, not the pilot – enabling me to have an uninterrupted sleep.
Getting a taxi involves getting a ticket for the queue rather like the deli at Sainsbury’s or, for older readers, signing on at the DHSS, and the waiting room is packed and seemingly chaotic. But we get to the head of a queue, are helped into a taxi with a driver who shouts ‘Toll road! Toll road!’ at us until we say ‘okay’ and we are whisked to our hotel in a little under 30 minutes.
The Mercure is located on a street with thundering music in the heart of downtown. But the room is large, air conditioned and soundproofed against the world outside. After the exertions of the zoo, I am ready for my bed.
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