Posted by: facetothewind | December 17, 2013

Now there’s no reason to ever leave Thailand

I’ve often thought I could live in Thailand. It’s a friendly, warm place with lots of petite, beautiful people and excellent health care. But there’s always been one thing holding me back. PIZZA! Yes, pizza. I’m a pizza freak. Actually I’m a pizza snob. And pizza has 3 components that Asians just don’t: cheese, wheat, and ovens. Thai people don’t get it, don’t love it, can’t digest it. And so this leaves the dough-afflicted like me at odds with this place. Yeah, I love Thai food. It’s AMAZING and wonderful and I can eat it 6 days a week. But once a week I have to get my dough on. And tonight I got it on!

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I walked past this glowing barrel oven last night and saw their sign that said they do a 48 slow rise pizza dough and thought, hmmm, someone knows what their talking about.

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This is Wee working the wood coal fired oven. They keep it about 400 degrees C (750 F) and so on a cool night like tonight, it’s also a gathering place.

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And here’s the final result. Doughy goodness served with Beer Lao dark lager. With tip, it was 300 Thai Baht – about $9. This is considered an expensive meal in Thailand. But well worth it.

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In case you’re wondering, it’s called the By Hand Café and is in the NE  section of Chiang Mai on Mun Mueang Soi 7, just outside the temple (See blue dot.)

Now, while on the subject of eating in Thailand, Dianna and I went to the Sunday night walking market which is a wonderful experience in people watching and a chance to not have motorcycles grazing your legs one night a week.

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I finally did it…

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You’ve read about it, seen it on Globe Trekker. Now I did it. Yes, I ate bugs — ant eggs for dinner. They were the size of TicTacs and each one popped and squirted in my mouth. But they had no flavor. I did not eat the bee eggs or the “praws.” Come on, stop the squealing. Eating an ant’s eggs is no worse than eating sausage — meat stuffed up a pig’s gizzard.     Or goose liver or gelatin for that matter.  I’m working up the courage to eat a grasshopper sometime soon.

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This is Man. He’s a very sweet guy who serves up rotee with banana and peanut butter, drizzled with chocolate at the local coffee house around the corner. Yumm.

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This is a trip of firsts for me. I got my first massage from a blind person. Not a big leap of faith, honestly, it just never happened before. And I have to say it was the best massage ever! He was extremely intuitive and tender with his touch. The other blind kids — teenagers — are all in a school for the blind that trains them to be massage therapists. They sit on the ground near the tent massaging each other with their meaty hands while waiting for customers. They’re all over each other — so cute and heartwarming to see how loving and affectionate they are! Why in America don’t we see touch as more socially acceptable? Or as a possible way to calm down a nervous nation? What if prisoners practiced massage therapy on each other? Yeah, I know. Someone abused touch in the workplace and then we banned it for everyone else. That’s America. Someone misbehaved, so let’s pass a law and sue and then the insurance companies will make sure it’s never done again. Sigh. Imagine blind teens in a puppy pile in America! Never. That would be inappropriate, I tell you.

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Just a random photo…the Fuller Brush lady in Chiang Mai. Handmade, sustainable, compostable and sold off her shoulders as she walks through the streets calling out to customers.

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A flip cuff shirt I designed and sketched in Photoshop is being sewn by Tu this week in her garage workshop. Robert Graham eat your $200 heart out for my customized shirt at $20…

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Responses

  1. Well, I hope you let me come and visit you there. We’ll miss you, but if I were you, I wouldn’t leave, either. Enjoy Pai Pizza Pie for me. xxxx

  2. Hi David, I’ve been to Thailand and Chiang Mai a number of times. Your emails never fail to introduce me to various corners of the city I’ve not yet explored – though I’ve had some very interesting experiences at the blind massage school (involving repeated usage of the words “Back Crack” — I was grateful that the mattress was well-padded and the therapist couldn’t see my panicked expression). Can’t wait to read more about your adventures! Paula


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