By Dan
Wednesday 6th of September 2017
We took the minibus to Pai – minibus being the main mode of transport for any tourist in the north of Thailand. The road was said to be windy, but we were weren’t prepared for how windy it really would be. We were right up the back of the bus and if you have any understanding of centrifugal force then the back is the worst place for any of those with an inclination for car sickness. Seeing as we’d taken on some of the worst and windiest roads in the world in India and Sri Lanka, we were pretty confident that we’d be okay. The Kiwi girl next to us, however, was not. She spent most of the trip blabbering and we listened with pity for her, hoping that she would be able to hold her stomach together.
As we came closer to our destination the road snaked backward and forward and we struggled to remain in control of our senses. Our Kiwi friend, miraculously, was doing a fine job and looked like she’d pull through. Unfortunately, Richelle was to be the main receiver of the g-forces that were now ramming head on into our guts and over the two hours I watched her gradually change from a healthy pink hue to a clammy white pallor. Being far up the back the cabs air conditioning had no effect on us, and conveniently, the minibuses windows were glued shut. I was fully expecting to see the vomit fly forth from her mouth.
At last we reached Pai, and not a moment too soon, as Richelle said to me, “If I was on that bus for a second longer I’d have puked.” No shit. We were happy to see that our walk to the hotel wasn’t too far and we headed for the end of main street where a bridge would allow us to cross the river over to our new home. Luck really was not our friend that day as we discovered that the bridge had recently been destroyed by flash flooding. We would now have to undertake the 3km walk to our hotel along the main road. You might be thinking, that’s not far. But in Richelle’s current state, which was only worsening, it seemed like an impossible feat. We found a restaurant and she promptly laid herself out on a couple of chairs and passed out. I, being okay, had lunch.
After half an hour, Richelle awoke and we decided to find a tuktuk to get us the rest of the way. As I said before, luck was not with us, and we were unable to find anything or anyone that resembled a helping ride. And now at the point where we just wanted to get there, we walked. But our troubles weren’t over yet. Richelle, feeling a bit better but weak from her sickness, was unable to carry her bags, so I decided I’d carry them as well as mine. Leaving her with her small but surprisingly heavy daypack, I figured we’d be able to make it. At first it was okay. But then the sun decided to accompany us on our journey and I faded fast. A semi-helfpul girl stopped and asked if she could take one of the bags for us, if we could just name our hotel she’d drop it off. We named our place, but she hadn’t the slightest clue where it was. I then suggested that Richelle could ride on the back and I’d keep walking. I said semi-helpful, because at the mention of this idea she decided that we weren’t good enough friends to have another person on her spacious scooter and retracted her help. They say it’s the thought that counts. Sometimes I think I’d rather be without the thought.
We trudged on for the remaining kilometre. I laugh at the distance now, but at the time it was interminable. We finally made it to our hotel and it was now my turn to pass out. Our hostess was kind enough to have some cold bottles of water for us and waited a few minutes before she led us to our room.
After recovering, she led us across the grass and through the palm trees to our stilted bungalow hidden in the man-made jungle. As we walked up the wooden steps we heard a loud meow and were greeted by a concerned looking cat. Her name was Bun and bungalow 7 was supposedly her bungalow and we were her visitors. Richelle, immediately forgetting her illness, fell in love. Leaving Pai was going to be hard.
Having learned our lesson, we hired a scooter and spent the next few days exploring Pai and it’s surrounding attractions.
With our trusty scooter, we travelled to a number of the local sites. The first being the Land Split. Literally. A large section of a farmer’s land had suddenly torn asunder and to continue to make some profit from this now useless bit of land he decided to turn it into a tourist attraction. But the Land Split wasn't the main attraction about the Land Split. It was the farmer himself. A generous man of sixty who lavishes his guest with all the products that he still produces on his farm. From rozelle juice to fresh bananas, he, his wife and daughters prepare it fresh everyday. And all for free. All he asks is for you to consider donating to his cause, and even then he says to donate what you feel. A family more content with the presence of new people to share with than money itself. These people were truly rich. In saying that, his house looked new and modern and it was safe to say he actually was rich.
With full stomachs, we donated what we had and headed off to the next stop. A massive waterfall tucked away in the hills. There wasn’t much else to do here other than watch the mesmerising water pound the rocks the same way it had done for hundreds of years. We left before the tourists started piling in.
We’d heard varying reports of Pai: A place for twenty-one year olds to party, more tourists than locals, too much alcohol etc. But after spending a few hours walking down the main street discovering the varying food and goods, of course surrounded by some of the whitest tourists we’d seen yet, we determined that it really wasn’t that bad. Yes, there were a tonne of tourists; Yes, there were plenty of young people out to party, but it wasn’t as rowdy as we were first led to believe. The vibe was chilled and a strong sense of friendliness could be felt around us. We ate some of the best food we’d eaten on the trip. There was a woman who called herself the Falafel Queen and made the best pita pockets we’d ever eaten. For two vegetarians travelling the world, her majesty felt like a godsend, and if I remember correctly we ate pita pockets three out of the four nights were in Pai. God I miss those pita pockets.
Everything slowed down for us in Pai. A feeling of contentment settled on us and we fell into a relaxed routine that involved reading, drawing, writing, scooting, eating, snoozing and cuddling Bun. It was the hardest place to leave and Richelle shed many tears over leaving the sweet feline, who by this time was now sleeping with us in our bed and occupying all of our time and space whenever we were back at the hotel.
Our trip to Pai was to have some symmetry as we trekked back along the road we came in on to get to the bus stop in the middle of town. This time, however, we were armed with a fit Richelle and motion sickness pills which Richelle swallowed without hesitation. We headed back to Chiang Mai and transferring to Chiang Rai with guts of steel and hearts of lead. We’ll miss you Bun.