What Bugs Me

It turns out that the list entitled "Things Asher Won't Do in Thailand Even Though Everyone Else Does" is a lot longer than I thought it was. Whether based on a conscious desire to be contrary or just an unconscious avoidance of what is popular, I'm finding I do not do a lot of the "things you're supposed to do."

Next on the list: elephants. When you're in Thailand, particularly in the north near Chiang Mai, everyone seems to go to elephant sanctuaries that, so I'm told, are all about elephant rehabilitation. I wouldn't know. It's my second time in Chiang Mai and I've yet to see any elephants, pre or post-rehab.

Over time there's been a steady decrease in the amount of elephant-tourist interaction allowed on the tours. This is despite a steady increase in the price of full-day and half-day packages available for purchase in every hostel, hotel, resort and corner store across Chiang Mai.

Years ago, people used to ride the elephants. That, for obvious reasons, got phased out. These days elephant parks, now called sanctuaries, that used to draw in tourists on their elephant-riding safaris proudly advertise their humane, no-ride policy.

To think, I've been bedeeping in nothing for so long

When I was in Chiang Mai two years ago everyone used to 'wash' the elephants, throwing buckets of water on animals that didn't want nor need the help (they have a firehose for a nose).The elephantine bikini carwash, too, is now frowned upon. The tours now include whitewater rafting as well, since the elephant part of the day has been whittled down to staring at some elephants in captivity from a distance.

But I would not be fooled by the big, omnipresent advertising of the elephant tours. I wouldn't be drawn in by the prospect of extreme water sports and an included lunch. I won't waste my money doing what everyone else was doing.

I would spend my money more wisely, by riding a bike out of the old city and visiting the Museum of World Insects and Natural Wonders.

This seemed like a much better idea. To be honest, when I thought about it, not much had really changed in the elephant world recently. There seem to be more to discover about bugs every day. Bugs have a lot more going for them. Why see one species of elephant when I can fascinate myself over sixteen - that's right, sixteen! - different species of moths. (Admittedly, the elephants weren't dead and glued to a framed piece of cardboard.)

The Museum of World Insects was probably the biggest tourist trap I've fallen into in a long time. Rather than getting ripped off at an overpriced restaurant in the tourist area, I chose to venture out of the old city and pay to go into some woman's house on the side of the highway. This was a lot more of a discerning way of being ripped off.

Entrance was two-hundred baht, not a large amount of money in the grand scheme of things, but more than any other museum in the country. It was enough for a bed in a not-terrible, air-conditioned dormitory in the city. But instead I'd pay it to enter a small, private museum. No other attraction was at this price point. The cultural museum in the centre of the old city - an actual museum with fascinating dioramas, educational exhibits and reasons to attend - cost less than half.

To enter I buzzed the doorbell at the woman's front gate and forked over the money in her garage. From there we moved into the main room and, now that the money had been handed over, I was left to explore on my own.

The first room - of a grand total of two rooms - had a wide selection of disused termite mounds with a smattering of large, dead beetles sprucing up the place. There was some information printed on pieces of paper on the wall. There was also a wall filled with pictures of people with bites and enlarged genitals as a result of insect-related attacks. There was also a cabinet dedicated to creatures - spiders, worms, scorpions - that weren't insects. I naturally wondered if these were the natural wonders the museum's title had drawn me in on.

Upstairs was the main collection of insects kept under glass. In this second, and final, room, three rows of half-height walls featured framed collections of wasps, beetles, moths, crickets and various other insects the bites-related information board had warned me about in the room downstairs. There were also some paintings the owner had painted because she liked painting paintings apparently.

But it was here that I learned about the owner's reason for collecting such a large array of insects. In explicit detail, two A4 sheets of paper explained the owner's experience getting malaria as a child during the second world war. Given a lack of adequate medical treatment, she should have died from the disease. But, as the paper explained, she puts her survival down to the magic woman from her village who drew blood from her by piercing the skin around her anus with the thorn from a lemon tree many times over a two month period.

This was a bit much for me. But at least I was learning something.

The woman had subsequently dedicated her life to malarial treatment across the region. This seemed a noble pursuit however the fascination with collecting the insects seemed quite odd. I would've thought collecting cuttings from citrus plants would've been a more natural next step.

Needless to say, her private collection had morphed into a unique scam, specifically targeted at the entomology-driven tourist. One who visits a city, known for not-riding elephants, schleps away from anything else close to interesting and decides to spend an obscene amount of money to see what they'd find, for free, under the beds at a cheap hostel. Only an idiot would fall for that.