Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Pai in the Sky

Pai, Thailand, 7/6/11

It looks like a reenactment of Walt Disney World's classic "It's a Small World After All" ride. There's seven of us from all around the world -- 3 American, 1 Brit who sounds exactly like John Lennon, 1 South Korean, 1 Aussie, and 1 Italian going down the lazy river.





The weather could not be more perfect -- 80 degrees, blue skies creating a canvas for giant fluffy clouds that look like cotton balls. We're clad in bathing suits, colorful innertubes in hand, when we jump into the Pai River, a short drive outside the main town. The water is warm and shallow, so much so that our butts are scraped and purple by the end of the trip. We float down the lazy river for hours, traversing grade 1 rapids, avoiding thorn bushes (Kristen isn't so lucky), and trying to stay afloat. The scenery is breathtaking -- we pass by water-filled rice paddies that reflect like mirrors the sky and the clouds. Farmers in triangular straw hats pan the water and wave. "Saiwaidee," they say. Other locals fish while children swim in the river alongside water buffaloes. Beyond the rice paddies are looming charcoal-colored mountains, reaching up into the clouds.



















Three hours pass and we drift slowly into town, walking back bathing suit and bikini-clad, innertubes in hand. The whole time, this song plays in our heads:



***

I've arrived in Pai earlier in the day, en route from Chiang Mai. It's three hours away by minivan, up a treacherous, windy mountain highway through an elevated forest. Around every curve, which hug the steep mountain bluff, our driver honks as not to collide and get pushed off the shoulderless interstate. Three hours later, the forest clears and we've arrived in the magical little forest town known as Pai. The hamlet is quaint, quiet, with a small main drag and a river running through the center. The whole town feels straight out of Aesop's Fables, although due to its strong hippie community, Woodstock also comes to mind. There town is terrifically slow and peaceful; there is noticeable lack of typical Thai noise and traffic. Unlike most of Thailand, there are barely any cars in Pai. Most people walk, bike, or motorcycle around.

I'm staying at Baan Pai Village, in a private A-shaped bamboo bungalow with a queen bed, mosquito net, private bath, and... hot shower! (200Baht = $6) The hostel is airy, with hammocks, red and yellow paper lanterns that illuminate at night, gregarious staff, rivers filled with large goldfish, and a nightly Thai singer-songwriter doing his best with Western standards.






Lunch is a big Mediterranean plate at Mama's Falafel: Four big moist chickpea fritters, salad, fries, hummus, and tahini (90B = $3) plus a passionfruit shake.



***

I run into Kristen and Wade in town, who insist I join them for the innertube trip. Wade is a Philadelphian who, like me, recently lost his marketing job. Following a month of training in Thailand, he's about to start a new English teaching gig in China. That career path is looking more and more promising. Wade has a stern, almost military look constantly transfixed, wearing thin-rimmed glasses. Kristen is a voluptuous, bubbly, tall German, with canary yellow hair and a perfectly round face. She is completely enamored with mojitos, as in, "I would just love a mooooeee-hiii-toe right now." They're joined by Will, a brash, bearded Texan who always seems to be high off something. Like Wade, Will is about to start a new career as an English teacher in China.

Following the tubing journey, we stop by a local bar for cocktails, every one of which, to Kristen's excitement, comes with a free mojito. The menu at the establishment is a long rubber scroll, resembling a silpat, with roughly 100 different cocktails. I drink a Mexican Sour, a sour, sweet, limey tequila concoction.

We finish the night sitting on picnic tables along the Pai River, making new friends with the large group of tourists from around the world, many of whom have been in Pai for weeks. Some even have taken up jobs at the guesthouses to make extra money. We sit next to a row of bungalows resembling adobe-style Santa Fe pubelo, with copper-colored stucco walls and roofs made from thick logs. We exchange laughs, stories, play guitar and toast Chang Beer with Brits, Dutch, Scots, Israelis as the moon glistens over the Pai River.


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