Before I get into this entry, I want to acknowledge the economic crisis that’s affecting so many people in the US and around the world. I must admit that I feel a bit whiny talking about how I’m not connecting to Thailand when so many people have lost so much in the recent stock market crashes and bank failures. It certainly puts all of this in perspective for me. My sincere sympathies to each of you who have been affected. In particular, my thoughts and well wishes go to my many artist friends in the midst of the fall art show circuit. Best of luck to you guys. I hope that some people are still able to open their wallets and give homes to your amazing art work.

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Maybe I’ve given a mis-impression of Thailand. It’s not that the people here are mean or ugly; not at all (except for that knife-vending woman who WAS rather abrupt.) I just haven’t experienced that “Welcome to Thailand! We’re so glad you’re here!” kind of magic that I did when I was in Bali … or Mexico, Brazil, Morocco or many other places I’ve traveled to. But I notice that one common denominator among all of those countries is that I at least spoke a little of the local language and people really seemed to appreciate me making the effort. Perhaps it’s just trying that opens doors in these countries. Think of all the times Americans get upset when people come to our country and never attempt to learn English. I figure it’s the same thing so hopefully by learning some Thai, I’ll open some doors here in Thailand.

from Chiang Rai to Chiang Mai and on to Pai (there are no direct buses from Chiang Rai to Pai)

I’m currently on a bus on my way to Pai, a small village in Northwest Thailand that has a reputation for being funky, artsy with a sorty of hippie subculture. Should be interesting!

I finished my final Thai language lesson last night - eight hours of lessons in a 36 hour period. My teacher told me that normally she would stretch this course out over 6 - 8 days, longer if the student had the time, but I was in a hurry so we crammed it into two. Crammed is exactly what it felt like too.  If Thai language and lessons were tangible objects, you’d see them oozing out of my ears and nose right now, I’m sure!  I definitely didn’t come close to retaining it all … or even 50%.  But on my way back to my hotel last night, I passed through the night bazaar and sought out a one-of-a-kind hand-embroidered skirt that I’d had my eye on for the past three days. I was proud and excited that I managed to negotiate for and buy the skirt … entirely in Thai!  (My end of the conversation was basically:  ”Hi. How are you? Can I try this on? How much is it? Can you give me a discount? [note that bargaining is standard practice throughout Southeast Asia. I would never ask an artist for a discount back home!] Can you give me a bigger discount?  How about 300 baht? No? OK, 500 baht (about $15) is fine. Thank you. Goodnight.”)  Not bad for two days of Thai lessons.  

All my commentary about not yet finding a real connection to Thailand doesn’t mean that I haven’t been out adventuring and filling my time trying to find one, although it was a bit slow getting things going in Chiang Rai. On the bus trip up here, my friend Steve (from the cooking class) came down with a fever, body aches and general flu-like symptoms. My Canadian friend Lindsay who I met in Bali and have hung out with a bit in Thailand too recently contracted dengue fever, a mosquito-borne illness also known as “breakbone illness” because of the severe muscle and bone aches suffered by the victim. Other than that, the symptoms for dengue (and malaria) are very similar to the flu although the outcome is much more serious (malaria can be deadly within a 48 hour period if untreated).

Wat Rong Kuhn - the White Temple

I just spent several days of the past week with Lindsay at the hospital in Chiang Mai getting her diagnosis, shopping for movies to keep her occupied and checking up on her after she was admitted to the hospital. It’s currently the tail end of rainy season here in Thailand … prime mosquito conditions; a fact I hadn’t even considered in scheduling my visit during this time. Needless to say, after Lindsay’s bad experience (she had a fever of 105 which didn’t break for days, couldn’t eat, began fainting and was suffering severe muscle aches), I immediately started taking my malaria pills and coating myself with 50% DEET mosquito repellant (the strongest I could find here).

So when Steve began complaining of headaches, fever and general flu-like symptoms on the bus on the way up to Chiang Rai, I was fearful that he might have dengue as well (which lasts for about three weeks and, other than taking medicine to keep the fever down, there’s not much you can do for it but suffer through it). Luckily, it turns out it was only a 24 hour virus, but that pretty much kept us close to the hotel for a couple days while he recovered. I, of course, used the time to catch up on journaling and emails.

Two days after we arrived, though, we were ready to get out and start adventuring so we hired a local guide, Jong, who works out of the hotel at which we were staying. A random, comical and interesting day ensued.

Buddha floating on a lotus blossum at the White Temple

 

In negotiating our tour, Jong explained that part of the deal was that we had to take him on our motorbike to get his motorbike and then we would follow him to the various places on our tour for the rest of the day. To do this, Jong told us, we would need to ride with three people on the motorbike until we got his bike. We assumed (and we all know NEVER to assume!) that his bike was about 5 to 10 minutes away. No problem, we thought. We’d driven with three people on the bike a few times around Chiang Mai … and I’d seen the Thai and Balinese load up to five people on a bike. Sure, let’s do it!

We piled on the bike - Jong driving, me in the middle (because Steve didn’t want to put his hands around Jong’s waist - silly macho boys!) and Steve in the back. Jong drove us through town … to the outskirts of town … and right out of town. “We have to go to my village to get my bike,” Jong said. Still not learning our lesson about assuming, we assumed (again incorrectly) that his village must be the next one over. We drove another 20 minutes … still no village. “We’ll stop to see the White Temple first because it’s on the way to my village.” Jong told us. Ok, no problem. Mai pen rai (a catch-all Thai phrase which can mean whatever, it’s all good, no problem, it doesn’t matter and even you’re welcome).

We stopped at the White Temple. Rather than telling us about the temple, Jong excused himself to go visit with a friend. Excellent tour guide, we thought. Mai pen rai. The first thing we noticed on our approach was the “moat monster” … some kind of scary stone creature emerging from the moat surrounding the temple, presumably there to scare away any evil spirits. Even under construction and surrounded by scaffolding, the moat monster was doing his duty, bearing his teeth and claws even while about to eat a fish that was almost as scary looking as the moat monster himself. 

the "moat monster" guarding the temple

The White Temple was a beautifully constructed wat that was entirely white in color and adorned with thousands of little silver mirrors in contrast to the standard gold temples that might also have smatterings of red trim. It was pretty to look out, but the white colors and silver mirrors reminded me of ice. I got chilly just looking at it. I was immediately a big fan though of the

Sans guide, Steve and I roamed around the grounds and finally inside the temple itself where we came across a very surreal Dali-esque sci-fi type mural on the back wall. One portion of the mural featured the infamous second plane about to strike the Twin Towers on 9/11. A giant, hellish looking two-headed snake emerged from the fires of the already burning first tower. Keanu Reeves in his black Matrix coat made an appearance in another section of the mural. There was no literature to explain the mural and we couldn’t find any sort of temple guide to tell us about it. So we left and met Jong outside. When we asked about the mural, he had no idea what we were talking about.

The three of us piled back on the motorbike still headed for Jong’s village. Slow learners, Steve and I decided that Jong must live just around the corner.

the White Temple's sci-fi mural of hell features the Twin Towers on 9.11

even Keanu Reeves makes an appearance in the White Temple's fascinating sci-fi mural

We raised our eyebrows at each other twenty minutes later when we turned off the small country road and onto a gravel road. Our mouths dropped when, after another twenty minutes, we exchanged the gravel road for a dirt road. “Jong, how much farther to your village?” we asked, with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. This was insane!

“Five kilometers up the mountain. In one kilometer you’ll see views from the mountain. And I live in a Karen village so you’ll get to see that too,” he answered excitedly, oblivious to our amazement at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Jong can’t measure. His five kilometers was actually about twenty-five. Luckily, Steve and I are both fans of random experiences … and this was climbing the charts of random … so we both laughed when Jong finally pulled the bike over at a tiny crossroads and announced that this was his home. Only 1.5 hours from our hotel. Oh well, we chuckled. At least we’d seen some interesting Thai countryside. I was amazed at the density and the height of the lush green-ness that surrounded us on these tiny roads. Some of the thick grasses soared fifteen feet in the air. I would intimidated on a large scale if I had to clear any sort of path through this jungle of growth.

Karen house in Jong's neighborhood

Jong asked us to wait by the motorbike and a few minutes later came back with his own. “I need you to give me 200 baht and wait here for twenty minutes. My bike needs some repairs,” he announced. His front tire was completely flat. Steve and I started laughing out loud as the situation grew more and more absurd. Of course Jong had not only known how far his bike was from the hotel, but also knew that it would need work when we finally got to it. These kinds of things are why he’s still in “tour guide school,” Steve and I laughed with each other. Enjoying the pure comedy of the situation (what else could we do) we paid Jong for the whole day so he didn’t need to ask for any more money and we wandered around his “neighborhood” while we waited for him to come back.

As Jong drove away on his flat tire, I not only wondered about whether he was ruining his rim but whether we were naive to pay him all we owed him stranded out in the middle of God knows where. But we were camped out in front of his house. He had to come home at some point. So, mai pen rai. Let’s just see what’s around the corner.

We wandered for twenty minutes through the Karen village (Karen are another hilltribe) that was his neighborhood. We came to what was clearly a dead-end: the concrete road ended and turned into a muddy slippery steep hill that didn’t look very inviting. We turned around, walked back to Jong’s house and then waited by the bike for another fifteen minutes. Although I was enjoying watching the pigs, chickens and dogs that were all around us, I was beginning to rethink my earlier conclusion. Just then, Jong motored up. “Let’s go get some lunch!” he said excitedly. The first good idea he’d had all day.

dog napping in a Karen house across the street from Jong's house

We were glad to have a little more “bum room” on our bike as we followed Jong … right to that muddy slippery steep uninviting hill that we had earlier concluded was a dead end. Given the day’s previous absurdities, I knew immediately that Jong was not joking with us. We were going off-road into serious motor-cross country. Never mind that our motorbike was just a little automatic 125 cc scooter and not a real off-road bike. Never mind that Jong had neglected to ask us if we were experienced drivers … or nervy ones. Never mind … well anything. Steve and I looked at each other and shrugged. Mai pen rai. We had wanted an interesting adventure. Here it was. Let’s go for it.

Turns out, Steve’s a good off-road driver. I’ve learned how to drive double on a motorbike, but he’s much better than I am so I let him do the honors. Boys will always be boys … he was delighted to take the wheel and get dirty.

I was starting to feel comfortable with our muddy off-road adventure when we rounded a corner to find Jong stopped at the bottom of the steepest, muddiest hill we’d faced. Small rivers of water from the recent rainy season (we’re still in the end of it) had carved many large gullies in the “road.” “Can you walk?” Jong asked. I’m so thrilled that I actually got this exchange on video! “Walk?” I asked, incredulous. “It’s too heavy for two of you to go up this hill. You need to get off,” Jong explained. Oh, NOW he’s concerned about safety!

“Where are we going and do we have much farther to get there?” I was re-evaluating the situation, ready to turn back at this point. “We’re going to a Lahu village for lunch,” Jong said matter-of-factly. The Lahu are one of the Thai hill tribes. “Yes, it’s still far.” He clearly saw nothing abnormal about the situation.

I wanted to meet the Lahu, but was beginning to doubt we’d get there in one piece. I had lost all confidence in Jong as a guide and wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if he asked us next to cross a deep canyon that had as its only “bridge” a single rope that we should dangle from by our hands, Indiana Jones style. Steve was determined, however. We’d already come this far. He was not about to turn back without “defeating” this road. So I got off the bike and video’d both guys heading up this tricky stretch. Jong slipped a few times but made it. Steve wasn’t so lucky. I stopped my video short to hurry up the hill and assist him pulling the bike out of one of the large gullies. We pushed the bike up the hill together to comparatively safer ground and both hopped back on.

Lahu village

We fell over on our motorbike a few more times on our way to the Lahu village. Jong crashed a couple times more than we did. Steve burned his foot really badly on the exhaust during one of our spills and immediately got an ugly blister that plagued him for our remaining time in Chiang Rai. I nicked the exhaust once, but apparently reacted quickly enough that it didn’t really burn my leg too badly. Cowardly cross-roader that I am, I learned how to launch myself off the back of the bike quickly so that I could easily bail in the face of danger. So much for solidarity.

We faced several more hills that I had to climb on foot. A couple times I rode small stretches on the back of Jong’s bike … who crashed with me too. Amazingly, only Jong got really hurt that day. He fell hard against a tree trunk during one of his crashes and really banged his neck, aggravating a previous injury.

Relieved doesn’t begin to describe how I felt when we finally reached the Lahu village. I was awed by the views, and by the small size of the village (probably no more than 100 people lived there) although not so much by the people. We sat in the open air “living room” of what we learned was the village chief’s hut and tried to engage with the villagers gathered there. Other than trying to sell us their wares (hand embroidered bags and water bottle holders), the Lahus pretty much ignored us. One even declined Jong’s request to guide us on foot for pay to a nearby waterfall. Very disappointing.

the chief's "clothesline"

Many of the hilltribes dress in modern clothes these days. We were told at the Hilltribe Museum in Chiang Rai that many of their traditional costumes, which can take up to a year to make, have been bought by visiting tourists as souvenirs. Rather than replace them, the hill tribe people just buy modern ready-made clothes. This was true of this particular village whose members were decked out in stained t-shirts and sweat pants. The chief’s wife was dressed up more than most though. She wandered around in a lace bra, an item that I’m sure was considered by all the villagers to be a rare and coveted commodity. 

There wasn’t a restaurant in the Lahu village. Jong just went to the village shop and bought some packaged ramen noodles and eggs and cooked them for us. Inside the chief’s two-room bamboo house, a small area in the floor about 3 feet square had been segregated as the kitchen. On the little spot in the floor, there was a fire burning where Jong boiled water to cook our noodles. Our eggs were “cooked” in our soup.

Steve enjoying a warm beer

Drink choices were warm beer or Coke. After the nerve-frying drive up, we both went for the warm beer option. We paid twice as much for our warm-beer-and-packaged-ramen-noodle lunch as we would have back in town, but weren’t bothered as we figured we had probably just fed the entire village with our $5.  We would have felt even better if they’d had more to do with us.

We enjoyed playing with a tiny cat and her kitten - the only village members who would engage with us - as we kicked back and took in the views. I was astounded to see the “grocery man” arrive on a motorbike delivering the weekly food supplies to the villagers. He had a large styrofoam cooler strapped to the back of his motorbike and two beyond-bulging bags of produce on either side of his bike. Despite the incredible cargo, his bike wasn’t covered in mud as ours and Jong’s were from the many slips and spills. Had he really made it all the way to the top of this mountain over those tricky, muddy, wet slippery roads without falling once? Incredible! 

 Too soon, Jong announced it was time to go if we wanted to see a waterfall and hot springs on the way home. I was really hoping that there was a paved road lurking on the other side of the village and that our motorcross ride up was just a cruel joke, but I knew better. Down the mountain on muddy slippery slopes scared me more than up. Had these villagers been more friendly, I might have been tempted to trade the chief’s wife a bra to let me stay until rainy season ended completely and the “roads” dried up. Nothing doing.

The "grocery guy" beat us down the mountain so I had a chance to photograph him loading up again.

I’ve read that one definition of adventure is an experience gone terribly awry that you manage to survive to tell about afterwards. This was that kind of adventure. I gritted my teeth, hopped on the back of our bike, said another of many prayers offered during the day and renewed my “propel off quickly” position. I was pleasantly surprised to find that going down the mountain was actually much easier than going up. Both bikes were accident free all the way.

view of a tea plantation

On the way to the waterfall, we drove up mountain passes so steep that, even though they were paved, several times I had to get off the bike and walk up … it just couldn’t carry two of us. We also drove through some lovely tea plantations. Just before we arrived at the waterfall, Jong stopped us on a dirt road and excused himself to go visit another friend for five minutes. Steve and I are obviously laid back tourists. Mai pen rai. Jong’s random moment gave me the opportunity to photograph some of the gorgeous hillside tea plantations and to observe and video some local boys practicing their kickboxing and other martial arts on each other. 

When he returned, Jong guided us to the base of the forest trail up to the waterfall, but for some reason didn’t go any farther. We’d become accustomed to guiding ourselves through the day so we trekked on up alone. We laughed to ourselves as we passed a park employee sweeping the leaves off of the dirt path in the middle of the jungle forest leading to the waterfall. Only in Thailand.  

Jong struck gold with the waterfalls which were stunning

The falls were gorgeous and well worth the climb. Jong had told us we could swim at the waterfall but to be careful because the rocks were very slippery. He didn’t say anything about the ladder. Steve was halfway down the bamboo ladder leading to the pool of the falls when it broke and he was dumped unceremoniously at the bottom. Bummer. It was at least a fifteen foot climb back up with no obvious toe holds. We both figured he might as well as least enjoy the water while he was down there.

The pool was small and there didn’t appear to be anything that would keep him from getting washed down the mountain at the pool’s edge so he wisely decided to forego a swim and just rinse the mud off his feet from the earlier motor-cross adventure. I don’t think he could have gotten back up on his own. I grabbed onto a tree to keep from falling and pulled him up with my free hand.

We were surprised to run into two other people coming down the mountain. They told us there were two more falls above and advised us that the trail to the top one was “dodgy” and hadn’t been climbed in a while. We continued our climb up to the second falls. Also very pretty. We carefully crossed the somewhat rickety bamboo bridge, remembering the broken ladder, ready to head up to the third falls. The bridge ended at a sheer cliff wall. Without rock climbing gear, we couldn’t imagine how anyone could climb it. Dodgy? It seemed to us to be completely impassable. We decided to quit while we were ahead in the day’s adventures.

personal hotsprings tub

We met up with Jong again and motored on. It was kind of a shock when we pulled back onto real paved roads. It felt like we were driving on velvet compared to the bumpy treacherous muddy paths we’d spent most of the day on. We arrived at the hot springs five minutes before they closed. Apparently the rule was that as long as you were there by 5:00 closing time, you could stay until 6:00. My body was bruised (not as bad as the guys’) and my nerves a bit frazzled so I was really looking forward to a hot soak. This being Jong’s tour, however, it was probably destiny that the large public pool was being drained for cleaning. Luckily, they had some private rooms that basically had personal hot tubs with water from the hot springs. It wasn’t exactly the same as swimming around, but I really appreciated the nice, hot relaxing soak. 

Before we left the hot springs grounds, Jong began lobbying to take us on a different tour the next day. We just laughed and smiled. “I think we’ll do our own thing tomorrow, Jong” we told him, not remotely interested in another one of his misadventures. One day of “random” was enough.

To see a video of our off-road adventures and other aspects of our crazy day, click here.

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.