Chiang Mai: More People

Another day, another set of people. At the same restaurant, over the Mexican breakfast, I discussed Houston traffic with a German man. I got some beach and guesthouse recommendations from the Canadian political campaign manager. The American who manages the ESL school where I substitute told me about moving to Pakistan with his Thai bride thirty-some years ago.















And, of course, there are the denizens of the Pirates Cove: the punk farmer with the bleached blond Mohawk and a scalp tattoo, the university student and the recent graduate who tend bar, the Australian owner, the 60-year-old man who just had another motorbike accident because he insists on riding with his foot in a cast, clutching his crutches, after drinking, and the Kiwi who exports furniture.