Chiang Rai on Wednesday: WWJD (What Would John Do?)

I’ve written before about how, as I age, I become more of an introvert … and how I appreciate more and more those people — like our friend John H. — who have an innate ability to forge connections with total strangers with ease.

John and his wife, Jeri, were supposed to be with us on this trip, but medical concerns conspired to keep them at home. Clyde and I found ourselves thinking of them a great deal this morning as we made a return trip to the White Temple (portions of which were, unfortunately, draped in black tarps today) and our first trip to the lovely Rai Mae Fah Luang Art & Culture Park.

While in the park, we wandered into the Haw Kham, a towering structure built from wood salvaged from thirty-two traditional Thai homes. Inside, we were shadowed by a friendly park employee who, in hesitant English, offered explanations of objects exhibited inside. Despite the fact that he seemed very friendly, it was difficult to do much more than nod and smile as he pointed out this candelabra or that teakwood carving.

And then it occurred to me: here’s a friendly local … what would John do?

I motioned for our new friend to come closer, then asked, “Were you born in Chiang Rai?”

He lit up. “Yes, yes, born here, always lived here.” He hesitated. “Your first time here?”

“Here once before,” I said. “We love Chiang Rai, because it’s so quiet and laid back — not crazy-busy like Bangkok.”

He nodded and smiled. “Or Chaing Mai,” he observed. “Once small … now like Little Bangkok!”

Still channeling John, I asked The Big Question: “You’re from here in town. What’s the very best restaurant?”

The gentleman hesitated. “Real Thai food … or more like foreign food?”

No question there. “Real Thai food.”

“You must go to Salung Khum,” he said. “Authentic northern Thai style food. Very good. The best in Chiang Rai.”

Minutes later, our driver, Ging, was headed to a part of town I’d never seen before, ferrying us to Salung Khum. (Don’t bother looking it up on Trip Advisor. It’s not listed.) Inside, I did my best John impression all over again, asking our timid waitress what was the very best dish. 

She hesitated, then said, “The glass noodles with egg.” 

So we ordered that. And the spare ribs. And the local fish with peppers. And some chicken fried rice, to boot. 

The glass noodles were succulent and savory, with huge chunks of scrambled egg, diced tomato, and tasty fresh basil. The spare ribs were plump and juicy, and came complete with little foil tips on the bones to keep us from soiling our fingers. The local fish was crunchy-fried and laden with bright green peppercorns, still on the stalk. And even the chicken fried rice was fluffy and flavorful — especially after being doused with fresh lime juice.

Best. Meal. In. Chiang. Rai. We topped all this off with a little dish of fresh coconut milk ice cream, then flagged a taxi back to the hotel.

None of this — our interaction with the guide at the park, our best meal so far on this trip — would have happened had it not occurred to me to ask, “Hmmm. What would John do?”

So: while John could not be with us here today, he still managed to make a wonderful contribution to our trip, opening doors and creating memories that we wouldn’t have had without his influence.

Next time you’re in an unfamiliar place, maybe you should channel him, too. Drop your guard. Take a risk. Ask a question. Make a connection. 

These are things John does so well — and these things can make life richer. 

Thanks, John. We are half a world away, but we are still thinking of you.