A Norbert gin-and-tonic

December 25, 2019 to December 29, 2019

Si Chiang Mai to Nongkhai

Dear little friends,

There are these birds here in Thailand that make these whoopy noises and I don’t know how to better describe them but if you heard them you’d find them amusing. Christmas morning the whoopy birds had some things to say and also a not-terribly-faraway loudspeaker was playing some cheerful music for an unknown audience. The forecast was for 94 by midafternoon so it seemed like a good morning to get up and get going from the Stephanie Resort.

I read a few online reviews for the Stephanie just to see if any other foreigners had stayed there (a few had) and what the locals thought of this slightly bizarre assembly of blue-gray cottages that looked for all the world like something from Cape Cod or the Oregon coast with a central garden of topiary and Italian plaster cherub statues, I don’t know. It was cute in a mixed-up and well-tended way. Google Translate indicated that Thai customers were reminded of Europe so maybe that was the intention of the owner. I’ve been in plenty of vaguely “orientalist” landscapes to know that visual cues can remind somebody of a place with no actual resemblance to any place that they are being reminded of. In any case, the Stephanie had been a comfortable stay and the first place we’ve stayed where somebody actually waters the lawn and flowers.

After a brief ride on the highway we were able to make our exit into a village and go through a lot of tobacco farms. Tobacco takes a lot of water and the Mekong was doing the heavy lifting on that with pumps and pipes in the fields. I stopped to wait for Bruce and drink some water and film two kittens enjoying the morning and minding their own business.

There’s a nice section of this route that leaves the highway and goes through small towns. Very peaceful.

No, we don’t know what this is drying on mats on woven tables.

This is new to us, the traditional resting platforms that reside in front of many homes under shade, but decorated with some sort of wood-burning technique.

We were wondering if a decrepit temple had fallen since we rode through last time and discovered it was still standing so Bruce took more photos of that while I ate an orange. It was 11 and time for lunch for the monks, they aren’t allowed to eat after noon even though many of them are growing boys and must be ravenous by 5pm if my own teens at that age are any example.

There has been no attempt at restoration since our last visit with this temple, sadly, it looks like there won’t be. It literally is on its last legs.

An inside view, taken by Bruce since I wasn’t going near this building. It would be too ironic to be crushed by a collapsing Buddhist temple on Christmas Day.

It is considered very bad form to cut down bodhi trees, particularly on temple grounds, but sometimes they are quite destructive to buildings.

These trees also are contributing to the decay of this temple. Perhaps that is how it should be, that a living thing wins this one.

By noon we were in Nongkhai and ensconced in the guesthouse in the riverfront area and were walking around with Thai iced teas looking for lunch because we aren’t monks and can eat any time we want to. We discovered a “tray food” restaurant in an old building with terrazzo floors and set to, both of our choices were excellent and we knew we’d be back the next day.

I was filming a little caterpillar destroying this marigold baci arrangement and suddenly a dinky Loch Ness monster popped up and then back down again. I’ll be selling the rights to that footage to the highest bidder.

Bruce has a green curry and I have a vegetable stir-fry and we both are scarfing Thai iced teas that went on to keep us awake half the night.

This waterfront festival was going on for ten days.

Nongkhai is in the midst of a building boom and the traffic is getting a little nutty but it’s still a fine place to stop and eat and get some writing done. It also has a noticeable population of elderly foreign men anchored by either Thai wives or retirement visas. Some of them seem somewhat marooned in Nongkhai and congregate with those of a similar feather at Irish-themed bars or “Danish Corner”. The Thai wives or girlfriends lurk at the edges with the other Thai wives, I’m guessing many of these relationships have lasted ten years or more and some of those much younger women are now pushing the old fellas in wheelchairs.

After a Christmas dinner of roasted chicken and the best somtam in the world, at a sidewalk place we’ve been frequenting since 2002, we thought we’d live it up and stop in at a tiny bar next to our guesthouse. I generally detest bars so this was a bold move indeed.

Our Christmas dinner: grilled chicken, somtam (green papaya salad), khao niew (sticky rice). Absolutely delicious.

An elderly foreigner hunched over a cigarette at the bar, we entered hesitantly, he looked at us and then through us and retreated into the back. This was my chance to surreptitiously put the stick from my shu-mai street snack into a table’s ashtray. Then he returned and indicated he was the owner of the bar and we asked for gin-and-tonics and sat at a table near the door in order to be able to make a quick exit if needed. On a large flat screen tv vintage music videos played.

It really was an awkward place. We are in awkward situations all the time and thank god we have each other to exchange eyerolls with because our festive Christmas drink was quickly turning into a regrettable move. Mister Bartender returned with tall glasses a third full of gin, two cans of Schweppes tonic, and some sliced limes. Oh, it was mix your own, how novel and edgy. That much gin could easily put this lightweight under the table so every drop of my can went into the glass immediately. The limes were nice, and I was enjoying my drink just fine but the owner sat at the bar and stared at us morosely as if we were about to break out into a song he knew he would not like. The music video went from Stevie Wonder to some 90s earworm by a singer whose name I can never remember. I muttered something to Bruce and the bartender growled at us that she was so-and-so. What, he could read lips? We’d better put the brakes on the snarky whispering, that or pretend to use a toothpick behind a shielding hand.

A door opened and Missus Bartender appeared. She was a middle-aged Thai lady who looked like she’d seen 30 miles of bad road and Mister had been driving the car. The vibes turned from sour to bitter, as if we had chewed our limes whole. I pounded my drink and pleaded for Bruce to do the same but he didn’t think he could do that. I had noticed something about that gin but wasn’t going to theorize right then and there given that Stinkeye was reading my lips waiting for me to make an announcement about this drink he’d “made” on this most festive and holy of nights.

After we finally made our escape we broke into hushed snickers of relief and then came to agreement that this guy had watered down that gin like no tomorrow because if he hadn’t I would have been cross-eyed drunk and I felt absolutely nothing. I hate feeling drunk so I wasn’t bitter at all just glad to be out of that toxic little cave laughing with my sweetie. Bruce was bitter and went online and read reviews of that bar and found out the guy’s name (Norbert) and would periodically break into sardonic remarks about our time in Norbert’s bar on Christmas and now we call our bottled water “Norbert gin”.

Our visa runs out on December 30 and we could either go across the bridge to Vientiane, Laos for one day or several days and we kept putting off leaving and putting off deciding how long we’d stay in Laos. We ended up procrastinating the visa run until the last minute, spending five days in Nongkhai writing, attending the nearby festival at the riverfront, eating tray food, drinking iced tea and coffee, and generally goofing around.

When I say “goofing around” I am serious.

There’s always time to shop at the broom store.

A fancy festive floating restaurant boat anchored in Nong Khai.

Music, dancing, food, what have we missed in the festival lineup? Oh, yes, giant hats.

The last day we were there was December 29, a Sunday. A pickup truck had pulled up into our guesthouse’s parking lot, and a lot of dusty shelves and dirty coolers and boxes of liquor bottles got dragged out from Norbert’s bar and were carried off by said truck in several trips with help from a crew of lads that seemed to be related to Mrs. Norbert. After several days of us slinking past Norbert’s bar hoping he wouldn’t catch our eye and try to guilt us back in it turns out his lease was up and he and his jolly bar were moving to another location. The whole area heaved a sigh with relief after the last load left.

We bemoan the pace of change here because we recall this or that we had loved from the past, this old wooden restaurant has turned into a parking lot, that temple shrine full of little doll-like figurines vanished, all part of a place where things happen while our gaze is turned away for years at a time. Yet sometimes the small changes happen right under our noses and not all of them are negative. Good riddance to bad rubbish I say. But, Tray Food Restaurant, never change and never leave because we’ll be back. We haven’t tried all of your dishes yet.

Today's ride: 26 miles (42 km)
Total: 744 miles (1,197 km)

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Jen Rahn¡Adios, Norbert!
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4 years ago