Walking the streets

I’m fascinated by the life on the streets in Chiang Mai. Despite the difficulties of actually walking around town, there’s a whole economy going on along these roads and lanes. So what makes walking difficult? Well, heat for one thing. At this time of year the mornings are cool but still after 15 minutes or so I’m wiping sweat off my face. By noon the only thing to do is hang out somewhere with aircon. Then there’s the smog. This is the time of year that farmers burn off sugar cane, ahead of the wet season. One report in the Bangkok Post said that Chiang Mai was up in the top three worst towns in the world for air quality. And there are the millions of motorbikes and scooters. Like millions of them. Plus all the rest of the traffic, and the nasty fumes those motorised trishaws put out is something else. 

Efficient public transport, but oh, those fumes, and the noise

Foot paths are mostly non-existent, so most of the time you are walking in the road, around parked vehicles and roadside food stalls. Some of the bigger roads do have sidewalks, but they are certainly not designed for walking. You are constantly dodging wobbly slabs over monsoon drains, ducking around tree trunks, squeezing between parked vehicles and stepping up or down off the kerb. 

As if that’s not unfriendly enough, there are elections coming up later this month, and the roadsides are flush with huge signs promoting the candidates. It’s hard to know how many parties are contesting, but probably over 40. The exiled past Prime Minister, Thaksin Shinawatra, is a local and has an extremely strong support base here still. I can’t work out if the signs are for individual candidates or parties, but they are all of uniform size, and they are hung on power poles so they come down to about shoulder height. They take up just about the space along the roadside, forcing me onto the road itself.

Chiang Mai is very urbanised, but still cross-crossed by quieter small streets that still feel almost rural. In the past there would have been local villages clustered around the city to provide labour and produce for the elites. Many of these supported specialised artisan communities. There was a silver village and an umbrella village. Crafts like pottery and lacquerware were concentrated in particular places where skills were passed down through generations. The Old Town caters for tourists and is awash with bars, trendy cafes, massage parlours and spas, guesthouses and tour operators. But the suburban streets are where the rest of the commercial business takes place,  a diverse and thriving microeconomy in the midst of residential neighbourhoods. 

In between dodging the motorbikes I was fascinated by the variety of small businesses operating along the smaller streets. In some roads, just about every house also has some sort of business going on. There are services to the neighbourhood – childcare, coin-in-slot washing machines, hairdressers, fast food stalls, tattooists, tiny shops selling drinks and snacks. I spotted a pet-grooming service where a large long-haired golden cat was being tenderly blow-dried. Bike repair garages, barbers, laundries, bars, web design, electrical repairs, photocopying and printing, tailors – and much more. How come we abandoned this opportunity to combine lifestyle and work for anonymous shopping centres and a 9 to 5 existence?