Thailand : Mae Sai : Shenanigans

Back in Chiang Mai, things moved fast. The camera wasn’t taking pictures, but we could apparently buy the same one really cheap in Mae Sai on the Burmese border.
Since Mae Sai was apparently only 30km or so from Chaing Khlong (the Lao border and our next destination) we hoped to pass through Mae Sai and pick up a new camera without spending a whole day on it.
We missed the last bus by ten minutes and the bus the next morning was full. In the end we managed to get a bus only going half the way and change. The seats were designed with four foot tall people in mind, the ride was gruelling. Everything in Thailand is designed for the slightly shorter man – shelves and even ceilings are exactly the right height so you think you can clear it, but bash your head. Even condoms come in a slightly smaller size.
Mae Sai was a dump – one long strip of ramshackle dirty shopfronts led to a monolithic government building presumably designed to keep the Burmese out.
We had a fun evening the previous night having discovered we both had the squits. This mixes amusingly with squat toilets or long bus rides. The ‘it’s not polite or pleasant to talk about poo’ barrier was flushed away and we rashly decided that a 36 hour fast was the only surefire solution.
Walking down the strip in Mae Sai we were over 12 hours in – Liv was starting to feel deliriously hungry. There was also no sign of any of the (illegally imported) cheap digital cameras I had been looking forward to, only charmingly garish jewellery. We stomped into the 7-Eleven. Despite her hunger, Liv was decided that the food had to WESTERN. She bought sliced white bread, a pat of butter and some processed cheesy slices. We sat down on the pavement to eat. I was still fasting and so only had a Slurpee.
It started to rain. The dust turned to grime. We discovered Chiang Khlong was 100km away, and there was no bus. We were forced to take a taxi, the fare was 1000 baht (just over £10) but saved us a day travelling the 600km back to Chiang Rai and then back out to Chiang Khlong. The bemused taxi driver dropped us off at a great guesthouse.
This collection of bungalows was run by a Thai guy – convinced he was Mexican and with the plaits to prove it. He thought he was really cool. In a way he was – feet up on the bar strumming along to Hendrix. He would come over to give some chat about how his guesthouse was really non-commercial or how his music was his music. Then he’d wander off without a word in edgeways. His tasty chicken fajitas made me break my fast. They were extra tasty.