So here we are, February 1st, and my Wordpress statistics tell me that Pattaya Days had more than 6,000 visits last month; smashing the previous record of 5,000 by, well, 1,000.

So, well done you lot and thanks for visiting. Clearly the process of not posting for a week works well. Maybe I should try not posting for two weeks; or as some may be thinking, for ever.

Anyway, the not so good news for you; I have at least seven days of polo shooting coming up this month which means an inevitable deluge of horsey shots. Also, my “exciting things happening in Pattaya this month” calendar, which is never exactly stuffed, is depressingly empty. Never mind, something will turn up.

Pretty much exhausted the location reports from our trip to Chiang Rai and Chiang Mai; here are a few shots that were left over:

Karen girl:

Our hotel experiences in Chiang Main and Chiang Rai provided excellent examples of how a hotel should be run, and also how to comprehensively fuck things up.

First Chiang Mai, and The Tamarind, located within the old city walls and, as previously reported, within walking distance of many temples and the Sunday night market. It also has a good coffee shop right across the road.

The hotel is in a walled compound with a tree lined entrance:

I keep an eye on how people find their way here, and sometimes this leads me to interesting information.

Today I had a link from The Good Funeral Guide which picked up on the monk cremation story (said nice things, gave an extract and provided a link; that’s the way to do it. Take note you Sompost.com bastards).

I was rather intrigued by the concept of a guide to funerals and had a browse; and I am glad I did. My current plans were to have myself cremated (after death preferably) and then ask for the ashes to be scattered on the Gulf of Thailand on the grounds that:

A long time ago, in a land far away, I had a Creative Jukebox MP3 player. It was bulky, heavy, difficult to operate and had limited storage. I thought it was the coolest thing ever but obviously it was a device of limited interest. After all, not many people were interested in carrying around some of their music in a substantial box. It was a niche product for music-loving geeks like me.

Around Chiang Mai there are a number of craft factories. The publicity indicates that you can see how the product is made, and of course there may be a shop involved where you will be encouraged, by force if necessary, to make a purchase. Let’s go to the silk factory where a token silk worm in a glass case is the only indication of a manufacturing process. OK, you’ve seen that, now please check out our massive shop. Next stop is the silver factory where a lout with a hammer is banging on a lump of what may be silver but is probably tin. Now let’s look at the shop. Maybe I am exaggerating a little, but none of these places actually make all the goods that they have on display. Apart from the umbrella factory.

Pattaya has a night market. Every weekend in Theppasit road, a motley collection of stalls is set up, from which assorted tat is peddled. It’s a shambolic shrine to the mediocre and I always feel slightly depressed after visiting; although some of the food stalls are OK. She who must be obeyed enjoys her rummage through the mundane, but rarely comes home with anything more than additions to her already massive plastic hair-clip collection.

And then there is Myanmar. Cross the border at the Golden Triangle and you are immediately surrounded by men with baskets full of