A strange bird, that cuckoo

Together with my good acquaintance Chang, who has been in for many years Thailand lives, we went by car from his hometown of Chiang Dao to Vientiane, the capital of Laos.

The description of Vientiane is omitted here, because the place does not contain many sights. The only thing that was a pleasant surprise are some restaurants with sublime French cuisine. The French have left something good behind in the former Indochina, of which Laos, along with Vietnam and Cambodia, was a part.

The gateway to Laos is the not too large border town of Nong Khai, a place that is not inferior to the 'metropolis' of Vientiane. In a few hours, and I mean literally two, you can cross the city on foot. The drive both there and back is the most interesting part of the trip with a stopover at Phitsanulok. From this place you can reach it at a short distance S visits; simply a must, because with Ayutthaya it is one of the greatest attractions in the country. Because we have both previously, even several times, considered the ancient remains of the former kingdom, we literally ignore it this time.

It is by no means the intention to make a kind of travel report of this trip, but I do want to say that such a car journey, even if you take two days for both the outward and return journey, is extremely tiring.

Succinctly; the journey is over when we return to Chiang Dao. After a wonderful shower, we cannot claim that we can take on the world again. Thailand has a big name in the massage field. Perhaps there are now people who frown their eyebrows when reading this sentence. In this case I am really talking about the massage techniques like those in the holy of holies, Wat Pho in Bangkok, are taught. And with a diploma from this massage temple in your pocket, you have prestige in this profession.

Behind the -only- hotels Such a massage facility is located in Chiang Dao. We think it would be a good idea to have our stiff muscles taken care of before eating in the hotel. Believe me, you really have to stretch two full hours for it. Every now and then you have to suppress a little pain, because the ladies don't always treat you with such gentleness. If you can't handle that, and prefer the more 'beneficial' massage, you should dig deeper into your pockets and look for another opportunity, where the gentlemen, and also their young lord, will be presented with a completely different offer. To each his own.

We lie in a room on a kind of mattress, separated by curtains all around. It is clear that I am dealing with a good masseuse, because she knows exactly how to locate my sensitive and tired muscles. When she hoists my left leg up, so to speak, I let out a small cry of pain.

Further down the hall I hear a deafening cry followed by the cry 'cuckoo, cuckoo'. Furthermore, a lot of giggling and conversations between the massage ladies, which I can't make sense of.

Barely fifteen minutes later, the same scene plays out and another frightened scream and the call of the cuckoo. Another laugh from the masseuses, and from the comments I can tell that someone is 'mau' or drunk. Other than that I miss the point of the whole thing.

I'm lying on the mattress with my underpants on, when I suddenly see the curtain moving and someone crawling under it on all fours. My masseuse wants to call the intruder - it was a she - to order, but before she can act, my underpants are pulled down, followed by the cry of 'cuckoo, cuckoo', with which, at least for me, the cuckoo mystery solved.

Drunken cuckoos are strange birds.