I walked around the orange glow of Chiang Rai. There were tourists nearby, couples absorbed in each other, missing the orange glow. I walked through the orange glow which became the pink glow. the people were out and the flies were out and I was out.
There were older women with market stalls in broken buildings. they would ask me if I was alone, they told me they were alone. I’d lie and point, saying I had some friends over there. I wasn’t yet ready to court again after Thet.
And that night – each night, in fact – when I got back from my walk, I passed out on the bed, then awoke again at 1 or 2am fully clothed with the lights on. I’d undress and get back to sleep.
In the morning, the Chiang Rai residence wanted to clean my room, so I walked down to Chef Keng. Recommended. You walked down the Main Street, past the coffee shops and noodle shops, then took a right down a countryside alley. It was 50 meters to the left. All of the tables, save one, were busy which was lucky. The flies flew around, and when customers left, a woman would clean the table, then another car would pull into the yard and the table would be busy again.
I ordered 12 pork satay, the peanut sauce was thick. A young Thai couple on one table had the same graffiti design t-shirts. His and hers. The peanut sauce on the satay kept the heat down in my mouth.
A couple got up, paid and left. Another car pulled into the dusty yard. The sun shone bright on the stones and pebbles, but us diners were protected by a corrugated roof and some canvas roofing overhanging at the front.
I made quick work of the skewers and pushed the empty plate off to the side. The chefs cooked and fried behind. My back faced them but I heard them barking orders and flipping pans. The water and oil sizzled.
A seafood salad arrived. prawns and squid rings, no batter, doused in vinegar and spice and coriander with sliced tomatoes. The prawns were white and chubby. They were good for a landlocked place. I suspected they were reared in a farm or tank nearby.
I got up and poured myself a tin of cool water. The flies had left the pork alone but there was something they liked about the salad.
The black pepper soft shell crab came out next. It looked like a clenched claw, fried and cynical. It came with a scoop of white rice. I liked how you could eat all of it, no bone-picking.
There was a spider in the kitchen when I got home. I saw it each time I got in, but it was in a different place each time. I let it be. It took care of the ant army.
On evenings coming back from town, there was a long white wall. With geckos running up it. Full bloods. They scurried up the wall with the moon on their backs. I stood and watched them. The wall was about seven feet tall and I’d talk to the geckos at face height. I told them stories about existence and the brave ones stuck around.
Anyway, if you ever do a trip to Chiang Rai, ร้านคุณยาย by Chef Keng is worth your time
