Travel

A Lucky Break in Northern Thailand

How a kind tuktuk driver ‘rescued’ me on a hot afternoon in Chiang Mai

I had gone to Chiang Mai for a conference and had a few days to myself afterwards. It was the second time to this dusty, bustling city in Northern Thailand and I loved visiting the markets with all their hustle and bustle and odd little things to buy.

After a meeting in one of Chiang Mai’s hospitals I asked one of the ex-pats where the local market was, knowing there was one nearby.

I listened closely to his directions and after lots of pointing and references to local landmarks, he said, ‘You can’t miss it’.

Huh? I thought. If I had a dollar for every time someone had said that to me on my various travels — and I still missed it — I’d be a rich woman.

Not feeling entirely confident, I set off walking along the side of the busy four-lane road (there are very few sidewalks in Chiang Mai) and tried to keep out of the sun. It was October but the afternoons still got pretty hot.

After I’d been walking for at least 20 minutes, I realized I had indeed missed it. No sign of any market, and no-one to ask.

At one stage I crossed a very busy intersection with cars and the ubiquitous motorbikes whizzing everywhere and felt a twinge of fear.

I was completely lost

There was nothing for it but to pray.

I said a little silent prayer, asking my higher power for some guidance.

I felt a little better, but was getting awfully hot and very thirsty. My clothes stuck to me and I could feel some chafing between my thighs where the fabric of my shorts was creating sticky friction.

There were no taxis in sight and I hadn’t seen a tuktuk for the whole journey so far, which had been going on for at least half an hour (but felt way longer).

I strained my eyes, peering into the oncoming traffic, willing a tuktuk to come along.

And suddenly in the midst of a line of cars, coming towards me, there he was!

I caught the eye of the tuktuk driver approaching in the left lane of four lanes of the unrelenting traffic.

I gestured a bit feebly, indicating I wanted him to stop. He broke into a huge smile and I could see he was braking.

His big brown face lit up and at that moment it was one of the loveliest things I’d ever seen; it was all I saw — his white teeth gleaming in the heat.

I clambered in behind him as he mildly rebuked me: ‘What you doing walking in this heat?’

Oh good, he speaks English, I thought and I mumbled something about how I was lost.

‘Thanks for stopping,’ I said, my relief palpable, as I sank back into the comfort of the black vinyl seat behind him.

As we set off through the traffic, the breeze that washed over me was welcome and wonderful.

‘Where you stay?’ he asked, eyeing me in his rear-vision mirror.

‘The Holiday Inn,’ I replied. ‘Just take me there please.’

And off we went.

Sensing I needed rehyrdration, he stopped the tuktuk at a drinks stall on the side of the street.

Until this point I’d only seen him sitting down, but as he got out of his cramped position in the driving seat, his body started to unfurl — and it kept unfurling.

He was a giant. Well over six feet tall and with a little paunch. Such an unusual sight in this country of tiny, skinny men and women.

He bought me a bottle of nice cold water and we were on our way again. It was the most delicious water I’d ever drunk and did the trick, reviving me almost instantly.

‘Sure you don’t want shopping?’ he inquired.

I thought for a moment and after the water, I realized I was OK and shopping seemed like a good option compared with returning to the sterility of my hotel room.

‘Sure, that’s a good idea,’ I replied.

I had three days left before going back to home to Auckland, New Zealand and my job.

Some good inflight advice

It was a long flight from Auckland to Bangkok for the conference on the subject of relapse — as an addictions therapist this was good training and the American expert was a leader in his field, so it was worth the long trip, plus I had an ulterior motive.

On the last leg of the flight, from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, I’d sat next to a nice Thai woman who, in her broken English, explained a few things to look out for.

After I told her where I was staying and the hotel where the conference was being held, the woman said, ‘Don’t pay more than 20 baht for tuktuk’ — for the journey between the two hotels.

So I remembered that with a wry smile when the price for my first tuktuk on the first day of the conference had been 100 baht, roughly $NZ2 ($US1.30).

It was still nothing compared with cabs I caught anywhere else — especially in Auckland where a similar journey would be 10 times the cost.

I wasn’t bothered by the inflated price for westerners and didn’t worry about bartering. It seemed like such a graceless thing to do to these hard-working tuktuk drivers who eked a living navigating the seething traffic in the heat and fumes all day.

It was a great way to see the city, from the backseat of Chao’s tuktuk.

The little three-wheeled vehicle was an odd thing to sit in. There was no seat belt and I had the whole backseat to myself where two others could’ve easily fitted alongside.

It seemed a precarious place to perch with no protective metal or glass around me.

After a while I began to relax a little and trust that I wasn’t going to be flung out or somehow slip out when we went round a corner.

He really knew his way around, this giant of a man and I felt a big tip coming on; I felt protected and safe with him and could see that the coming days had new possibilities.

I said I needed a pair of sandals, so Chao took me to a market where there were thousands of pairs of sandals on offer (for a breathtakingly low price).

He did all the talking for me — the right size, colour etc.

I started to get hungry and said I’d like some ‘local food’ — no bland Western food for me. I’d been to Thailand once before and had fallen in love with the fragrant cuisine and longed for the fare the locals ate.

He found an out-of-the-way restaurant where we ate like royals for $3. I was the only farang — I liked being the sole foreigner in the place.

Read the rest of the series here: Part II, Part III, Part IV

Thanks for reading!

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