Chiang Rai, Thailand: Mad dogs and Slash impersonators.

After a three-hour bus that wound its way around hundreds of very curvy, steep bends (motion sickness tablets essential) we arrived in sleepy little Pai - home to a relaxed community of snoozy Thais and 'far out' expats. We stayed in a dingy little wood hut with a tatty mosquito net hanging from the ceiling to tuck under the corners of the mattress - as tends to be the norm in Thailand's more remote places.

We liked Pai, though sadly were not presented with the opportunity to eat pie in Pai, which would have provided me with a brief moment of amusement, not to mention a better headline for this blog. We didn't try particularly hard, mind. So potential visitors to Pai need not be disheartened: there may well be some meat-filled pastry here somewhere, so don't despair.

The reference to mad dogs is to do with when Jacqui and I traipsed off to the other side of town in search of Be-Bop bar, which our ever-reliable guidebook (the famous one, with a name that rhymes with 'only granite') had informed us would be swamped with revelling locals come midnight, enjoying excellent live music and absolutely no sodding Bob Marley covers. Needless to say, it was deserted. After a brief drink at another bar nearby, we started to head back up the empty road towards the main town. At which point, out of the darkness, suddenly came three angry dogs, scaring Jacqui with angry barking and snarls revealing sharp teeth. I could see Jacqui was about to break into a run as they started following her. Fearing this would only make the dogs excited, I told her to keep walking straight ahead while I attempted to stare down one dog that was now fixed on me. This seemed to work - well, he stopped snarling anyway - but by now all the locals dogs were barking and some kind of canine territory war seemed like it was about to kick off. We kept walking, briskly, and left them to it. Pai is a great little place, but every bar and shop seems to have a guard-dog and they aren't kept tied up at night. You're fine on the main two or three streets but it's easy to get a fright if you go elsewhere after dark.

We also were happy to find a shop here called Apple Pai, which had a Mac computer with iTunes, where you could add music for 4p a track, movies for 50p and Family Guy episodes for 10p. So we loaded my iPod up with some extra provisions for some long journeys ahead.

Two days later, a three-hour bus followed by a four-hour bus delivered us to Chiang Rai, a pleasant (if not entirely thrilling) town that is a popular stop-off for tourists en route to Laos. The highlight here was the night market, with countless food stalls and live music laid on for the scores of tables (largely locals) enjoying the live acoustic music and dance.

Before we left I also had time for an oil massage, which was very relaxing (although I hadn't prepared myself for quite how vigorously the masseuse would pop my fingers and toes), as well as a meal at the Chiang Rai branch of Cabbages & Condoms (see Jacqui's earlier post from Bangkok on this excellent chain), which we located just in time before a storm broke.

On our way home we popped into Teepee Bar for a nightcap. This quirky little grunge den has guitars, bicycles and skeletons hanging from the walls and ceiling - as you do. I mention it largely because the patrons' dreary game of Jenga was at one point interrupted by the previously sedate Thai barman (here he is in someone else's photo) suddenly launching into an impression of Slash from Guns n' Roses when 'Welcome To The Jungle' came on the TV, complete with electric guitar, shades and replica wig. "I have many wig," he enthused, pointing to a rack on the wall, "You can try!" he said, in hope of a playmate. He had his own little rock hall of fame by the time we headed off for an early night. The next morning, we would be up at 6am to begin our two-day slowboat into Laos and the beautiful town of Luang Prabang.