I rented a motorbike, well, a scooter. Honda Click automatic 110 CCs of zippy fun that I've maxed out only twice, and managed to lay down 10 meters away from the rental shop when returning for a helmet (which was later stolen...). I don't think the rental folks saw, but the 3000 baht deposit might be gone. For you math-wiz baht-dollar converters, yes, that's $100 buckaroos, or approximately 1/10 of the value of that scooter when new. Considering the other option is to leave a passport, $100 is not a lot of money compared to THAT inconvenience. Good news, I can pick up the bike pretty easily and am hard-wired to jump clear of it as it goes down.
Being at the beginning of my motorscooter adventures, it also has inspired a heck of a lot more road-protection clothing. I scooted over to meet Shazam and get the low-down on his adventures after we'd parted the night before and to gauge just how bad his cold was progressing. Apparently he'd walked me home and still feeling rambunctious had gotten my blessing to go forth and hit-on, ran into a nice Thai girl from Pai with a broken heart who needed his particular brand of sexual healing. She had managed to disappear into the morning-after ether by the time we were chomping Western-style omelets and comparing hangovers from our Friday night.
I esconsed him in my guesthouse room, got the helmet and some ATM baht ($7.50 charge total every time I use an ATM around here...), returned for my gear to find him asleep and his computer playing some kind of television. I grabbed my gear as quietly as possible, jumped on my scooter, and started without giving it too much thought. Thought typically means deciding it was a bad idea. Honestly, it's about a 50/50 shot that it turns out to be a good idea. In this case, the coin flipped in my direction.
I'd studied my three maps of Chiang Mai several times to plan a route out of the city, and it was a good thing as the highway was not marked, instead I knew it was the right turn because of the map that pointed out the 7-11 on the corner. For those of you who have traveled here, you know there's a 7-11 on almost every corner, but this one was mid-way around one wall of the old city, just past the Seventh-Day Adventist church, and happened to be the right one.
As a rule, I try to emulate the locals. That Indian restaurant that is always empty when I pass, I don't eat there. About 50 Thai people are crowded around one rotee cart in a sea of empty rotee carts, I wait patiently in line. In this case, I wound through traffic as though I'd grown up on a motorscooter, as though I was the kid crammed between Dad in the driver's seat, in front of Mom and the two other kids (it's real, I've seen up to 5 people on one scooter). There are little road rules here and folks squeeze through traffic as though it were a sport, using sidewalks and any opening to get past the belligerent tuk-tuks, air-con tourist vans, open-backed truck/cabs, and all of the other vehicles on an average city road.
Clearing the city, I headed down highway 107, headed to highway 1095 (turn at the Shell Station), and onwards to Pai. Pai, pronounced "bye", is a small backpacker's haven in the misty mountains of the far north, practically kissing Burma. The route is carefully measured and there are 763 curves between Chiang Mai and Pai (so boasted the many t-shirts, stickers, and button now proudly attached to my Patagonia bag). At first it was pretty simple, up and up through a slew of small towns. In the opposite direction, I watched with amazement as farang on rented crotch-rockets jetted full-blast down the hill (something I came to understand on the way home...). I noted some interesting stops as something to come back to, knowing that my day had started late and being on a curvy, mountainous road in Thailand at night was NOT what I wanted to experience, just quite yet.
About 2 hours into my trip, the curves got tight and vertical. Like 10 km/per hour or almost dead stop with enough acceleration to take me up an incline that looked like a real ADA afterthought. Coming in my direction was the usual assortment of weekend joy-riders, tourist-packed vehicles, and the local trying to get ten huge trunks of bamboo somewhere. I drove through a herd of cows, dodging the one who went right instead of left, and creeped up and up and up and up. I dare say there was a moment when I started to feel motion sickness, not an easy thing when you're driving.
At one point, about 40 Porshe 911 passed me, all featuring a sticker on the windshield that read, "Drive of the year" in a different color, "2013". These drivers were all passing each other, a German-precision-motor-whine of over-eager maneuvering. I dodged when I had to, stopped when I couldn't.
I passed many a small town, confident in the gas efficiency of my little Click, until the towns stopped happening (note: NONE had an "official" gas station) and I was at a quarter tank. I now know that headed uphill, the gas tank looks half-as-full as it really is. In my newbie ignorance, worry commenced. Curve after curve, rev after rev, I climbed until I saw one store that had bike/car stuff in it. I pulled in, asked for gas, gasoline, and finally petrol when the very nice gentleman manning his store got that glint of comprehension. I remember mocking Aaron once for using that term, but now... well... yeah. The man gestured to the right somewhere and I peered at a shack surrounded by bamboo across the highway and although it was very dubious that anything more complex than jackfruit was sold there, I smiled, nodded, and gave the one Thai phrase I use most: Kop Koon Kaaahhh. Thank you.
Getting on the bike, I got turned around and started to head shack-ward, when I noticed the shop guy had walked to his own little outbuilding in the same general direction. The outbuilding with two barrels mounted with acrylic cylinders filled with a dark yellow fluid. Ah, the gas. I took everything he offered, paid whatever he asked (44 baht, or about $1.20), and started back up with a full tank again. Thank goodness for small tanks and efficient motors!
The road just traveled
Gear
Thai gas station
Honda Click
When I got to Pai, I still had over a half-tank and the sun was only low-ish in the sky. With a few missed turns and one map consultation, I was on my way to some hot springs. I passed my first elephant sighting in Thailand and naturally stopped to snap some pictures and try not to evaluate the care and upkeep of these elephants against what I've read and protested because of PETA's websites. Total failure. Bullhooks, chains, farang mounted on animals who looked at me with total intelligence, it was something I hated to photograph, to participate in even that much, but participate I did. I snapped a couple of shots, jumped on the bike and headed to a resort, scattering chickens as I approached.
100 baht later, I changed in a bathroom (barefeet in bathrooms are par for the course and coincidently a re-occuring nightmare of mine. How my nightmare of the last few years came to be fulfilled, well...), passed the most beautiful pool full of loving couples (jerks) and went to the pool being vacated by chatty Germans who passed me in their Speedo shorts (no secrets there boys!) and warned me it was "hot". I imagine a sous vide is pretty much what I climbed into. It took me 3 minutes to get down the three short stairs and over to the bench, the whole time hissing and cursing under my breathe, much to the amusement of the scantily clad and very pink Germans who'd warned me.
sehr heiß indeed. Or as they say in Thai, ร้อนมาก. As my breathing returned to normal, I heard someone say, "I thought that was you". I turned to see a gentleman I was staying with at Smile Guesthouse. Ron, an ex pat based in Japan, on holiday in Thailand to seek acupuncture and massage for a barbituate dependency, was standing right there. Small world, indeed. Being a nice guy with whom I've discussed at length his recent conversion to Islam and other escoteria, he invited me to his next stop (another hot springs) and to his party destination that night before he moved on. I lasted maybe five minutes after he left and the last person I knew there didn't seem me jet out of that boiling water without manning up for at least 30 minutes.
The Real Deal
Sunset... Almost
HOT!
Lux
Sad Elephant
A quick shower and dry in my sarong before donning my road outfit, I got back on the motorbike and headed back to town for some viddles and to find a place to sleep that night. I found the bottom of the 351 stairs to the Wat on the hill instead. The sun wasn't yet below the horizon line and I really, really wanted to see this view. I parked and hiked, reaching a nice slather of sweat, heaving breath, when I passed through the massive dragon sculptures and up the final steps. I was greeted at the top with a grip of farang (half of the crowd was Japanese - apparently Thailand is their Mexico) also watching the sun set. It was worth every step.
I got my pictures and was about 100 steps down when the sun was fully eclipsed by the surrounding hills and that's when the monks at the Wat started hitting the gongs. Fast, fast, slower, slow, slow, faster, fast, fast, they beat that gong in a pattern until it was fading behind me and eclipsed totally by the buzz of the Click's little motor.
300+ Stairs to go
Melted Wax
Pai from the Wat
Dragon at sunset
Pai
300+ Stairs back
It had been 10 hours at least since that omlet and I was starving for REAL FOOD. Instead I found the night market. I walked the entire thing before I decided on one ear of corn, a couple of skewers of mushrooms, and a coconut and chocolate gelato. I also went shopping for gifts, something I've only pined for and not endulged until now. I got a really cool shirt for my sister-in-law, Meredith, a man's sarong for Randy, and I got myself something too. I was walking down the street and a guy with dreads handed me a flier. Typically I ignore this kind of thing, but the flier looked interesting and he spoke good English. I walked down the tiny alley he gestured towards and found myself in a hippie enclave, bonfire, reclining couches, and a small shop lined with jewelry featuring stones I really love. When I saw the labradorite necklace, I knew it was the one. It was 650 baht and definitely a hippy style, but it was THE ONE. So I knelt at the little table where a Thai hippy gal was describing the work and let her hand me an English-language book opened to the page on the properties of labradorite and it confirmed my decision. I handed her the money, thanked her for her work (she had made it) and walked out and thanked her boyfriend too. He invited me back later that night to hang out and to bring a beer, which I did.
I met a couple my age from Holland who had followed the European Rainbow Gathering since the 90s and had three kids with them and a newly-single 30-something German ex-pat artist with whom I exchanged her email address for one of my special Altoids.
I had booked a room at a teak old-school guesthouse on one of the two main roads of Pai and I parked my motorscooter on the side, locked my helmet into my seat, and was grateful to climb onto the hay-stuffed mattress and seek oblivion. Waking around 7am, I found that I was freezing my ass off. I followed the sage advice of my parents and wrapped a sarong around my head, yoga pants around my feet, and fell back asleep. It was 9am before I woke and I woke to a world that was full of mist as far as I could see in every direction. I took my first hot shower since coming to Thailand, a trickle of hot water that I luxuriated in for almost 10 minutes before shivering into a towel, jeans, long-sleeve shirt, arm warmers, socks, tennis shoes, and scarf. Within minutes I was packed and at my motorbike, wondering what the hell happened to my helmet.
Teak Guetshouse
Open air house, View from the bathroom sink
New meaning to term "open floor plan"
Hay mattress = dream city
How was I going to get to Chiang Mai, down the road of 763 curves, an inexperienced motorscooter operator, with no helmet? Not an option. Plus, I'd already laid down the bike, getting some scratches on its side. Now I'd have to return it helmetless? Secondary concern to my unprotected noggin, I got on board and petered through town until I found the first place that looked like it serviced bikes. I asked through charades and slow English, "Helmet?". The owner showed me three styles and wrote on the plastic bags wrapping the helmets their prices. 190 baht, 200 baht, 300 baht. I chose 200 baht and waited as he used a washer to attach a face shield to it. My $6 brain-damage stopper. (Sorry Mom!)
It was the identical helmet to the one I had previously, in brown instead of blue, and in better shape. Feeling somewhat safer, I refilled my tank ($4) and started down the mountain. I was freeeeeeeeeeeezing. Shivering. Teeth-chattering. For at least half of the way down. Then I stopped at one of the sites I'd marked on my way up. Waterfalls. They were Multnomah sized - in a tropical setting, and absolutely gorgeous. I snapped pictures, hiked up to some caves and got pics there too before I headed out again.
log crossing in SE Asia = bamboo crossing
Da Falls
Falls with scale - BIG
Morning sun through the trees
view from the cave
looking up in the cave
The way down was much easier. I knew better what I was doing, the engine didn't have to work as hard, and I was eager to get back and get to work. I think I shaved off the hour I spent hiking around the waterfall, coming into Chiang Mai with a new confidence as I ducked and weaved, following a particularly ballsy long-pony-tailed Thai girl on her Scoopy. And yes, I got lost, finding my way home only by going around the entire moat-defined old town until I recognized MY 7-11, and a couple of a restaurants.
Shazam was still here. We grabbed some Pho, gabbed about stuff, got him to a bus, and I came back to work. He invited me to visit his house in Bali and that's sounding like a really nice opportunity to see a gorgeous place for super cheap. We'll see. I'm giving myself a little more time to figure out what next. Maybe tomorrow. For now, I no longer have to dream about being barefoot in a shared bathroom so I'm curious what my brain will come up with... Good night.