Chiang Mai walking...

Mid-morning hour, took the new birkenstok sandals, 300 Thai bhats, for a test-stroll. A stop at the railway station to change my departure train ticket to a later date. Then, off I go, camera at hand, to play tourist.

Meandering, I'm shooting randomly, at temple facades, and whatever else catches the eye. The mood is light, and, so is traffic. Slowly, I start feeling the beginning of a blister. It's been a few hours now since I left the guest-house.

Walking, the sky is clear, and the sun is settling nicely overhead, leading to a few stops at pretty available 7 Elevens for re-hydrating breaks. Afterward, a much-needed toilet stop -traditional style. Mosquitoes take advantage.

Walking through lunch time, siesta time. Blister growing. Time to head back. A watermelon, 30 bhats, purchased last night at a street market, waiting in the fridge, comes to mind.

Following pathways drawn by shade on sidewalks, staying close to walls and trees and business awnings, avoiding as much as possible the perpendicular touch of sun-rays, I advance.

Walking, through Chiang Mai's main shopping district, past Le Meridien, across the street from Starbucks. Grounds' cleaning hotel employee carrying a cat. Homeless, bed-ragged woman sitting at the corner, makes eye-contact, lazily raises a hand, moving her lips as if to say something.

Walking, I turn the corner, the hotel's employee is still carrying the cat, searching for something. On the sidewalk, street vendors are getting ready, and so are the shop owners. Along the way, Thai pop music is blaring out of a store. The bars are open, prostitutes seated quietly inside.

Walking, I pass tourists, young, old. Some smile. Crossing the street, I'm following an gray haired westerner, cellphone in one hand, tooth-pick in the other. Passing him, I watch, his hands move, over and over, as if from a nervous tick, or maybe, he's just strumming some invisible string...

Walking, along the river, brown, with a few kayak enthusiasts slipping by, racing one another, I cut across a couple of markets, through pars and bits of Chiang Mai, past a thousand Thai smiles, glances, gestures, words, conversations, laughs, past dozens of gilded temples, hundreds of quiet alleys, shops, massage parlors, restaurants, bars, whatever-you-might-think-of-and-more street vendors, cooked food stalls, fresh fruit stalls, tourist traps, travel agencies, crafts worthy of Ali Baba's cave, a million necklaces, colors, clothes ready to wear, bright fabrics to be fashioned as you wish, a brown river, trees, flowers, a few mountains looming in the distance, and closer to my feet, food offerings to the gods of good fortune, from rice to beer, from two simple items to a full menu.

I walk on, getting closer to my room. The new sandals have failed the test, and can now join ranks with the disappointing Vibrams I had brought from home. A seamstress with a shop on the sidewalk smiles. I bow, turn at the corner and enter the guest house.

Be well, and if you can remember, walk lightly, walk with a smile, walk with love.

P.S: The watermelon is sweeter than should be permitted. But like the walk, it is missing the magic of company. And, as the mad teacher goes on singing, "Seek solitude as you wish, oh Fool.. In the end, if you ever wake up, it is within the give-and-take of love with others that you really are home."