The Young Man Odyssey

I took the same rickety bus back, and had two seats to myself for half of it, before a thai man came down next to me holding what i was fantasising to be a bomb. on the way the thai army brought out drug sniffing dogs, something that didn’t happen the last time. it was hard to leave pai, and chiang mai is the same as it was. i know it like the… top of my foot, not as well as the back of my hand but close. it’s a good place to visit, pai is a good place to live.

i ate dinner at a food stall directly across from a sad middle aged american and his thirteen year old girlfriend. after dinner i took another seat and rolled a cigarette in front of a ten year old. i wondered which one set the worse example. there are no “no prosititution” signs all over america, maybe they are, i’ve never seen them. they wouldn’t need them except maybe vegas, but in thailand it might actually do some good.

the buses to the golden triangle weren’t running when i got in, so this visit is by circumstance and not by good will. i shall wait out my time and carry on. I’ll be in Laos in two days or so.

Pai is the kind of town when you arrive you stay, and when you leave you take it very slowly. I have at least 350 miles to traverse today but I took a last motorycle ride through the country, and have left my bag with the wonderful british man who makes astounding mango shakes, 30 cent mango shakes.

My favorite movie as a kid was Robin Hood, the disney version. And while Robin and Little John were wakling through the wood, when the happy about circumstances they would hell, oodalolly! Pai is oodalolly.

My plan was to get the 9:30 bus, it’s 12:30 now, I’m trying for the 2 o’clock, but maybe I’ll have a change of heart and stay. Ha!

These are the pictures of the glorious honeymoon sweet perched on the river pai. This shall be my last day here, as I finally tear myself away to head to the Golden Triangle Tomorrow.

I’ve always enjoyed travel. Whether, bus, car or bicycle, it can drain the saddness out of man quick and fill hip with spiritual ideals. I tend to focus on the immediate moment on a long bus ride, letting the scenery roll by as it comes. Not anxious and with no expectations, serene and calm. My 8 hour monk at the monastery said, “The present is all we have, the past is forgotten and the future is unknown.”

My last two days in Pai have been spent mainly on motorcycle, and this is where all these roadside analogies are coming from. To its credit, it’s more of a scooter than a motorcycle, but i’m very prideful in my manhood.

Tomorrow I plan to log 7 hours of bus travel if I can make it. My plan is to traverse way north, and the day after make it to the tourist spot where you can take a picture of Thailand, Laos, and Burma all coming together in a place called the Golden Triangle.

I decided to rent another motorcycle. Automatic this time around, much easier than a manual. And what a wonderful day it was.

I was reminded the role an automobile plays in daily life. Every day back home I would ride in a car, and for these two weeks, minus buses I have not. It felt great to explore, to see the world at 50 miles per hour instead of 3. I was more inclined to go into town, and it fit right with my somewhat settled lifestyle in Pai.

I do not forsee tomorrow being the day I leave. This town took my travellers side and coddled it like a baby making me want to settle. This is the best town in Thailand they say, and I agree.

I was planning on catching a bus to Chiang Mai to begin my ascent up north to Laos. However, this town really does make a travelling man a settled man. I’ll be here tonight, so nothing much to report. The slogan of this town is “Do nothing in Pai.” And that’s the beauty of it.

I got off the bus and walked around with the two brits I had met on the bus, Alex and Steph. I was planning on going to the other side of town, but I followed them and got a room for 100 baht, which is about $3, (35 baht in a dollar). We chatted with some Belgiuns in the lobby, and soon the five of us were out on the town, a fierce comaradery for a long two days.

There is a humorous anti-American sentiment spreading around the world courtesty of our dear friend Mr. Bush. And when introducing our group to people there was always the disclaimer: “Us two are british, these two are from Belgium, he’s American but he’s alright!”

We went out drinking, as us young people do. They were startled by my age as they were 31, 24, 28, and 31. They proceeded to make fun of me for it for two days as well. We went to a bar with live music spilling out the windows. The singer played a hello kitty guitar, a euro chinese with a metropolitan fashion. Busting out AC/DC, Ozzie Osbourne, among others, the whole bar of 90% locals, and us, were truly engaged.

It is funny to watch 12 year olds party like they’re 21. Because of a certain lawlessness that lies within Thailand, on the stools of the bars and hogging up the pool table were kids in their early teens and below. Most had cigarettes in their mouths, and a bottle in their small hands. It was a wonderful night, and we retired about 3 am, staying up and chatting by the river. I believe by the end of the night I spoke in a british accent.

The next day was a more noble venture. A wonderful waterfall lay 10 km away, and after assessing the possibilities and upon my suggestion, we all rented bikes for $1.50.

The countryside around Pai is astounding. Temples sit in the backyards of farmers, the gardens filled with exotic fruits and vegetables. All we could see for miles was land being used and cultivated, shanty homes perhaps, but the land they stood on made those fragile sheds seem like they were made of marble.

Alex and I bursted ahead with the strength of our legs, and Steph and Tom fell behind. The other belgiun was on a hike for the day. We arrived at a large, beautiful waterfall surrounded with lush green foliage the likes you’d only see in rural Thailand. While the other foreigners had made a quick jaunt on their rented motorcycles, we had made a pilgrimage on bicycle, and the destination meant more to us. Alex and I jumped in the cold water before the other two had even arrived. The water was freezing, but the air warmed you as soon as you stood up. Fifteen minutes later our sweaty compadres arrived, exhilirated as well. We spent an hour swimming and exploring the waterfall, and knew our ride back was completely downhill. Wonderful!

The next day we returned the bikes and Alex in Steph caught the 3:30 minibus to Chiang Mai. Our group was dismantled, and I had lost my room because I had told them I was checking out when I wasn’t. I said goodbye to my friends and started down the road looking for a hotel.

I was tired, and my body was unforgiving for the two nights past. Grumpy, I wandered down to the far side of town, down the river as it bends to the mountains. I wandered a dark alley and came upon the most beautiful resort I have found thus far. For $5, I have a hut made completely out of bamboo. I have a deck with a bench, and a wonderfull yellow hammock. My view of the river and mountains is far away but mentally exhilirating, and lying in the hammock reading my new Bill Bryson book I felt completely content. I wandered into town for the best noodle soup and mango shake of my lifetime, and paid the $1.50 with a large smile and a belly full of good intention.

I sit in the lobby of a wonderful hotel (not mine), with spiritual electro music behind me. The young Thai cashier laughs at me when I ask “How much?” in Thai but can’t decipher the answer. I suppose it is unfair of me to expect an english response asking the inital question in Thai.

Pai is a eutopia of bohemia, intelligent and young. The people are darling, the food is good, the rooms are cheap, and the mountain scenery should be a pay per view kind of thing. The only downside is it can take a travellers soul and crush it to pieces, making the travller desire to be a settled man. With my new bungalow and a great atmosphere I do not know when I’ll leave. If you ever come to Thailand I beg you with all my heart to come to Pai.

I have finally come to peace with leaving the monastery. I felt weak willed, but even so, things have worked out well for both parties.

I took a cheap tuk-tuk to the bus station on the eastern edge of Chiang Mai. The charm that had first seduced me was long gone after 4 days, and I was ready to leave. The bus station was maddening. It looked like some sort of bizarre stock market, and after hunting around for a few minutes I found, through a series of bizarre corridors, the desk to buy my ticket. $2.25 for 4 hours.

Our bus was late, and if there is a visual equivalent of what a late bus looks like, this was it. Driving up in between spotless, double decker tourist buses, the bus to Pai was bright orange with chipped paint. A definitive air of a third world country.

Once out of the city, I was a content man. The people were nicer on the bus to Pai, easy for conversation. The road turned quite steep and with a full load, our bus pattered along like the little engine that could, hardly. We stopped in a little town, the halfway point, and dropped some brits who were just dead weight.

I sat and had an espresso and banana, reveling at the good fortune of the mountain towns. I realized I had not even been in the country thus far, and it was all well and good that I was venturing there now. The second half of the leg was much steeper, but we had dropped some people off and our bus was handling it now.

At the restaurant, Justin used to loved to say this Grateful Dead quote, “When life looks like easy street its danger at your door,” meaning when I was on top of my game out of nowhere I’d have an unruly customer to put me in my place. However, this quote can work both ways. After being morbidly depressed after leaving the smiles of the good monks, a drive through the country had completely lifted my spirits to the highest they’ve been all trip.

Everything had a greater meaning it seemed. I was reading The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway on the bus, and as we descended into the country, Jake and Bill were off to the countryside of Spain for a fishing trip. The good-hearted, masculine dialogue set me off in a good mood, but that poor bastard Robert Cohn really needs to get a life.

Off the bus, I had chatted with a couple from England, and they invited me to come with them to the guest house. I opted for a room alone, $3, but nonetheless I had some buddies in the same compound as I. I was comfortable in this town right away, and chatted it up with the Belgiuns at the bar. I have not been this chatty so far, but its working out nicely.

I plan to do some trekking soon, and in no time at all I shall be heading overland through Laos and into Vietnam. I am happy to finally be off the main tourist trail, Pai attracts a hippier crowd, much like myself. I wish you all good cheer and do not be too worried about the previous entry. It was a sad thing to back out on those monks, but it is passed, and I look happily to the road ahead.

Alright, so my 10 day meditation didn’t work out, but before you judge, read on…

I had gotten the scavenger list worth of things to bring to the monastery, and arrived at 8 am with 11 white roses. They dressed me all in white, and gave me a room the likes of quality I have not seen thus far, and it did not cost me a penny. I went to lunch at 10:30, the last meal of the day (no dinner for buddhists). The tables were about a foot off the ground, and I sat on the floor.

I logged a good 2 hours of meditation. And through the course of my last one, I realized all the problems I was having on my trip would be alleviated with a few good friends back home, and my isolation increased, the meditation actually did not help, just made the remedy for all my troubles is 6000 miles away.

And thus I cried. I wept the first tears of my voyage, for my loved ones and friends back home. I realized that I wasn’t going to make it 10 days let alone three, and I requested permission to leave the same day I had arrived. The good monk granted me my wish.

The taxi ride back into the city was horrible. I was fighting more tears as we crossed over the moat. I walked through the travellers center and spoke to a guy named Ben from Australia, and the thing that I had been lacking, the reason for my crying, had been loneliness, and so, the city was the perfect antidote.

I was upset with not fulfilling my retreat as I had planned, but I had gotten a taste and instruction on how to meditate. I am not done meditating, as I think it will help me on this trip a lot, however, being at the monastery was sending me into deep isolation, and that is very much what I do not need. Once I got back in the city I felt much better. I thank the monk for his good wishes and his hospitality, and much more for his understanding.

So I continue on, to Pai tomorrow. A small town of 3000, set among giant mountains. It is the place I have been aching to go since I arrived, many travellers and my former teacher instructed me this is the place to go. I got a good cry out of the meditation, but the sadness has past. I look forward to my further ventures and realize that 1 day of meditating was exactly what I needed.

Yes, it was sad not to fulfill my commitment, however I chose a route that was most suitable to my immediate needs. Emotion is fragile on this solo venture, and I must take good care of the good spirits I have. I have been given great tools for the mind in just one day, and for a good many hours I was depressed about leaving quite early. But now I see that it is what had to be done, and I move on.

Battling an ear infection all day, I blame a botched surgery at birth, I bought a weeks worth of antibiotics for about $5.

I re-read an alll-white student outfit for my time there. As I read on, there it was, “white underwear is a must.”

So off I went, in search of this odd commodity; just as night had fallen. I wandered the length of the east moat, and then back on the other side of the water. And finally it graced my eyes, a pair of tailored thai silk boxers. I paid $2.25.

Still wandering, I heard the sound I had been longing for all trip, the vocals and guitar of my good friend Bob Dylan. The first time I had heard it since America, I sat down and had a drink with the Irishman and his Thai girlfriend. Unlike most western-thai couples, these two actually seemed to be in love, and I relished in the atmosphere of the bar.

Unlike you older persons, I have not had the chance to experience the smokey nights of a drinking bar. Outfitted with a televison playing Spiderman II and a pooltable, I sat back on my stool and enjoyed a few Beer Changs, until the Thai bartender challenged me to a game of pool, and it was on!

When she broke the triangle, a solid went in, and I knew I was in trouble. I convinced myself I was better than I was, and tried to play like I’ve seen on ESPN. And you know what, false mentality can work sometimes. I made shots from across the table, corner to corner, suprising both myself and my competitor. When things panned out, I had only the eight ball and she had 2 solids to go.

We played 3 games, and I lost on two technicalities that I’m quite bitter about: I called the eight ball in the wrong pocket (a spectacular shot), and I scratched the cue ball with the 8, giving her the victory both times. She was a fantastic shot and it was her home table, and I was convinced there was a higher force at work to help me. I found out later that it was nothing more than a smaller table. I had played well, in a childs game.

I had a fantastic time, and it almost made me reconsider my long meditation commitment for the day following. But as the night wore on, the bartender went on a 10 minute rant that I could not understand, despite her passion for whatever subject she was talking about. When she was finished, I paid the bill and 10 baht extra, and went on my way.

Tomorrow I wake early, at 7:30, for my 8 o’clock appointment and my temporary new life as a student monk. White silk underwear in hand I feel confident, I apologize the blogs shall be paused for a bit. The election in America has filled me with good spirits, the AP reported the dems won the senate as well! I leave you all for 10 days to attain spiritual enlightenment, before I travel to Laos and Vietnam. Have a wonderful time everyone, I shall try as well.

G’day everyone. This shall be my last communication for 10 days, if I can last that long. This shall be my new home:

I have enrolled in a 10-day meditation course at Wat Ram Poeng, on the outskirts of Chiang Mai. The cost is nothing, but donations are expected.

I have been asked to buy an alarm clock and eleven white lotus flowers, as well as copies of my passport and two small photos. I am not allowed to leave the wat grounds so I shall have no access to the internet.

I shall resume my travels on the 20th of November.