Unlike Cambodia, Laos, even Vietnam, Thailand does seem to have more to offer in terms of variety. The terrain is varied from beaches to mountains to small villages. The cuisine is more advanced, complex flavored soups eaten with a spoon rather than a pile of spicy mashed vegetables picked up with a handful of sticky rice. The silks are more refined, the choices of material and designs everything from handicraft hemp to department store brand names. But the feeling is not the same. Buses have air conditioning and seats that recline. Bus schedules and fares are set and observed. Tuk tuk drivers take no for an answer. The occasional traffic signal gets people to stop before the white line. Markets sell piles of white ant eggs, but not rats on a stick. Then again, I shouldn't talk. I've only seen very little of Thailand. Bangkok, the bus stations of Chiang Kong and Chiang Rai and now Chiang Mai.

My first day in Chiang Mai, I signed up for a highly recommended cooking course. Me, one other American, a large, friendly woman from Phoenix, and five other Germans (yer-mans) started by shopping in the market to learn about the uses of all the different fruits, vegetables, meats, compressed meats, bags of pork rinds, sacks of spices and piles of white ant eggs. We spent the rest of the day stir frying, filleting, chopping, spicing and mostly eating what we created. We made lots of traditional Thai dishes. Green curry with coconut milk, tom yum soup, fish souffle, pumpkin custard, spring rolls and finished with good old pad thai. My Pad Thai came out rather impressive, if I don't say so myself. It didn't taste all that wonderful when I sat on a bench and ate it cold six hours later, but I was able to wrap the noodles perfectly inside an omelette just as my instructor had demonstrated. If only Pad Thai was more about look than taste. Now I just need to be able to afford an apartment with a kitchen that's big enough to cook and a place to keep my wok that doesn't require disassembling the kitchen to take it out.

The rest of my time in Chiang Mai has been spent walking, shopping and, sadly, sitting in Internet Cafes catching up on email. The shopping has been so-so. There are lots of carved elephants, hemp (which attract people with dreadlocks to shop here), flowing clothes (ditto on the dreadlocked shoppers), wooden boxes, chopstick sets, silks, shiny fabrics, silver, beads, etc. If there was one store full of these handicrafts, they would seem like gems. But a city full of them, a night market with stall after stall of these things makes them all look like cheap, junky trinkets and souvenirs. I plan to try again tonight. If you're interested in any hemp or other junk...

In terms of email, my family is panicking thanks to George W. and the situation in Iraq. In fact, they've exploded with panic and, although I know their panic comes from a place of love and concern, and maybe a displacement of anxiety over the war (thank you CNN, code red, etc.), I wish they'd go back to being casual worriers and feign support of my cause. Not that they've convinced me to come home, but it doesn't help when the bouts of homesickness hit.

Speaking of homesickness... I went to see Maid in Manhattan yesterday. This was a treat. One, to be inside an extremely air-conditioned movie theater. Two, to be in a movie theater again even if it wasn't exactly like home. (There was an usher who really ushered, flashlight and all. I had to select an assign seat and sit in it, even though there were only five others in the theater. And before the movie started, everyone stood for the Thailand national anthem while a montage of the President's face and palace played on the screen.) And three, to be watching a movie set in Manhattan. The sweeps of skyline, benches of central park, leaves blowing through midtown streets, even the bright orange seats of the subway all pulled at my heart and made it lump in my throat. The same thing happened in Vietnam when I was watching a Beck video set in Coney Island and Wall Street. Pathetic but true. A week back in the states, one swipe of my metrocard and I'll be cured.

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