Trying to climb out of the Pai hole

Having finished off our, admittedly brief, time in Chiang Mai we decided it was time to head even more North, in a bid to escape the relentless and magnetising pull of the Chang. Our chosen destination was to be Pai, a sleepy and slightly hippy town right at the top of Thailand. In typical fashion we cut things very close to the wire – just about managing to buy ourselves onto a bus the night before. Although pleased with our opulent and surprisingly successful organisation this quickly flittered out of the other ear as the German girls in our dorm were keen to explore the local party scene, a task Finlay, I and 2 other guys from Tonbridge gladly accepted, the evening ending in ‘Spicy bar’ – where the beer is cheap and the Russians bottle each other, quite literally, perhaps a story for another time.

The next morning Finlay felt, slightly unsurprisingly, worse for wear and although the 5 hour journey loomed over our heads, we were in surprisingly chipper moods, gladly watching a complete Farang (Thai for immense tourist noob) berate the staff in the hostel lobby for making him pay 50 baht for the sheets he stained – rumour has it he’s still searching for a solid defence. Just grow up, pay the £2 and get on your way.

Said good moods did not last long, at all, the snowflake that started the avalanche being the crisps Finlay and I bought from 7/11, which were plain, but came with a separate sauce to dip them in – thus explaining why they were 10 baht cheaper than the Lays. Pretty embarrassing all things considered.

Personally I would say the journey was beautiful, with over 200 hairpin turns and stunning vistas over rivers and rice farms, all the whilst slowly drifting up to the mountainous north of the country, needless the to say, the kindle remained packed away. Unfortunately, this journey was really a tale of two cities, as Finlay found himself in the chunderwagon from hell, trying so hard to not throw up that he refused to communicate with even the bus driver, leaving me to be his confidant for all things ‘how far to the nearest loo’ and ‘are we nearly there yet’. I’m still not quite sure why he could ask me to ask the bus driver but not ask the bus driver himself, some explanation about not being able to move his head from one spot on the window for fear of a new paint job later leaked from his mouth – an argument I dared not pick into too much.

Most importantly however, we had made it to Pai – which was needless to say, stunning. As Finlay headed for a little lie down, I went out exploring. Pai is a small town, situated next to a river, with quaint bars, pretty cafés and steaming street food carts sprawling into the street at every turn. Whilst all the time inundated with floaty live music whispering it’s way into and around the colourful back alleys. Bordered by gaunt and shadowed mountains, staring you down from all corners. This truly did feel like a home away from home (perhaps more Shoreditch than Sheperds bush, but the same city nonetheless)

We had been recommended to stay in Common grounds hostel by a friend we had made in Chang Mai, a pizza chef by the name of Henrique, who is all things considered a great bloke, but fancies himself as a bit of a Casanova and treats hostels like a mini love island with all his romance related drama (@badboypizzasoc on Instagram).

We headed out on the hostel pub crawl together, and met some interesting folks along the way. Quickly one Chang became 7 and the night drifted on into the early hours. The most amusing game we played was ‘who needs to get out of the Pai hole the most’ which basically involved spotting who had frankly spent too much time in Pai and needed to go home. The winner was a spot on John Lennon lookalike, who had clearly failed in his hunt for a Yoko, and instead found himself sitting on a wall for 3 hours playing the maracas. It’s time to put the maracas down John and go back to Brighton.

The next few days were spent exploring Pai and the local area, Finlay and I eventually retreating to a small hut next to the river as we had forgotten to book more nights at the hostel, this was extremely romantic, perhaps too much, but nonetheless enjoyable. Here we met up with the German girls from Chang Mai – who had lost a member to go inter-railing. We headed out together to a renowned once a month jungle party, which seemingly fancied itself as Techno capital of the world. The party was made especially fun by some of the characters we met, including ‘angry bird’ a Thai bloke with an angry bird hat and a slowly developing magic mushroom addiction.

We also met back up with Jesse (shown left of angry bird) and his harem of twins from the Netherlands who also made for very enjoyable company.

Now firmly settled in Pai, we made it our mission to complete some local activities, the first of which to be river tubing. Chang’s in hand Finlay the German girls and I were driven up river and dropped with rings to float back on, or atleast this was the intention. What was previously known as the lazy river – rapidly became the dark depressing and lonely stream. Dry season was a fact we had callously overlooked pre float, however, luckily my protruding tailbone made light work of scanning the river bed for any pointy rocks and/or sharp objects – leaving my back littered with golf ball sized tumours and bruises a plenty. Unfortunately this was really not the end of an already arduous journey – as the clock ticked onto the 5th hour of an intended 3 hour tubing session a headcount revealed we had two missing Germans on our hands, who unbeknownst to us had taken a wrong turn several lumpy rapids back. We therefore assumed this was just the way of the river and continued bobbing down. The key fallacy in this whole adventure was a belief in a celestial Thai saviour, who would come and pick us up at some point and drive us back into town, it soon became apparent that this was not the case, and, as we now drifted past Pai itself; my arse and Finlay collectively decided enough was enough and jumped ship with 50% of Germans in tow. We waited 5 minutes and still no sign of Eva or Olivia (pronounced öööliviaaa). Thus, Finlay and I strolled angrily into the dark of night in search of our Thai messiah who’s once ubiquitous presence became almost mythical within minutes. Eventually we tracked him down and angrily sign languaged our frustration, he retorted with laughter and we headed on our way – big flop – in the hope that the other Germans would turn up and be found by the other half waiting by the bank. Scheise! Was the announcement from Olivia and Eva when we bumped into them in the night market. They had panicked at not being able to find us and climbed out in the pitch black about 700m before – after floating past a dead dog in the river. From there they had walked in skimpy bikinis through a 5* hotel and then the entire night market to get back to the tubing rental place – with Thai men jeering and whistling all the way, very reminiscent of that Cersei ‘shame’ game of thrones scene, with the added bonus that they were suspected lady boys, amusing stuff. Still, we were pleased to have found them, as were the other Germanic half at not having to bring home their cremated bodies home in a coffee cup. Thus the dog was the only casualty for the day, and so we went to get a drink to calm everyone’s nerves.

The next morning we headed out to the ‘rabbit café’ which was known not for serving the animal, but, instead for having them jumping around the tables, cute in theory, less cute when your £5 chai latte gets bumped off by an angry fat necked wilder beast. Sure enough when the inevitable occurred the café owner then proceeded to grab the rabbit by its fat neck and hurl it across the room, not all cuddles in the café after all.

The rest of the day was spent cycling around and exploring the hot springs/ canyons that Pai is famous for, finally our adventures were problem free and we had a genuinely very enjoyable day (excluding the tepid temperature of the springs and the peeling Phillipa off the floor after a fly flew into her eye and she collided with the pavement).

The evening was spent saying our goodbyes to the Germans and other friends as we had booked ourselves onto a 2 day hike with ‘Mr God’ the man for all things activity in Pai, unfortunately as we had to wake up at 6am the next morning for the hike the goodbyes were disappointingly brief. Nevertheless we were very excited to be going into some of the most rural areas in northern Thailand.

Mr God’s omniscience of the local countryside had become obvious several days before as he detailed the villages we would be visiting, full of information about tribes, waterfalls and gaping caves. However his omnipotence and omnibenelovence fell into the line of fire when he turned up 30 minutes later than the intended pick up time, still pissed from a jungle party we had so studiously avoided the night before. Perhaps not a traditionally evidenced inconsistent triad but this was the man we had entrusted for the next 2 days of our lives so we dubiously climbed into a van whilst God cooled his hangover by lying in the shade of his shop. Then followed an hour of driving out of Pai along bumpy dirt track roads, where eventually we made it to the Black Lahu tribe (where we were to be staying tonight) and met up with 2 other English guys and our guide, Jacka, whose appearance was hilarious in itself – he was wearing traditional hill tribe baggy trousers in a royal blue floral colour way, complimented by a backpack almost bigger than the man itself – with slingshot in one hand and machete in the other, definite weapon. Jacka quickly informed us that he was known as eagle eye by several village members, which initially sounded like a slightly bold claim but gained some sustenance when no less than 5 minutes into the hike he stopped moving and fired a rock from his slingshot high into a tree canopy – sure enough a very small bird then fell down from the tree, dead, Finlay and I both found ourselves mixed between laughter confusion and feeling bad for the dead bird. A weird sort of role reversal of David and Goliath were Goliath gets the slingshot and David sits in the tree making loud noises in wait for an angry Thai Mogli-esque assassin.

Keen to remove the swathes of hedonism which had found themselves so easily attached to us in Pai, we pressed on in pursuit of a long neck tribe or as Finlay tactfully referred to them as ‘long nekkers with tekkers’. The journey was made slightly awkward when one of our 40 year old fellow hikers starting telling us about how we 100% should get a ‘soapy massage’ when back in Chiang Mai, as he had spent most of his 3 month budget on ‘soapies’ (an abbreviation which made even the wildlife around him cringe) as-well as paying girls to talk to him at local bars. Possibly the biggest antithesis of lad culture I’m yet to meet in Thailand.

We found ourselves yo-yo-ing up and steep and sheer rock faces for the next 2 hours which was hard work at times, especially with my previously mentioned excess of limbs, which did absorb a bit of a battering. Upon falling over for the fifth time in an hour and rolling down 2 metres of rocks I was actually just quite angry, and Jacka’s repeated calling to the animals started to irritate me, fortunately he compensated for this when we stopped for lunch with soapy and co, as he disappeared with no explanation, and then returned 20 minutes later with handcrafted bamboo cups and plates which he had just made, quite impressive to be fair.

Lunch was made even more amusing when our favourite sex tourist started talking to Jacka like he was some kind of alien, despite the fact that he speaks 25 languages and has written a book, think ‘Jacka you tribe have water?’ Or ‘it very nice your house Jacka’ perhaps even the odd ‘Jacka lot of tribe people live mountain?’

Lunch wolfed down, we headed off for a waterfall which Finlay and I gradually started needing more and more as we had both only packed one small water bottle for a 6 hour hike in a slightly skewed weight-benefit analysis. I thankfully consumed about 2 litres of water before we left and was getting dehydrated very slowly, meanwhile Finlay did not and drank his 6 hour supply of water in about 30 minutes thus completing his prophecy as the epitome of a Farang.

Still we continued trundling through the sweat box, all the while accompanied by a score of animal noises made by Jacka, including one very questionable repetitive grunt which Finlay and I had to try our hardest not to laugh at especially given the context of our lunchtime conversation about his penchant for ladyboys. Finally however we made it to the river and waterfall, accompanied by blackface gibbons which Jacka claims was the result of his calling, however, it seems equally possible that it is the allure of the cake/apples that he gives them in return for their presence which summons them.

The end of the walk was particularly enjoyable, it was the first bit of flat we were yet to encounter, but also at the crest of a mountainous ridge, with incredible views into Burma on one side and looking back into Thailand through the woodland on the other. Jacka also had lots of fascinating information to pass on, telling us about how these paths were originally made by the Japanese to infiltrate into Burma, showing us locations were weapon depositories had been found previously, often guarded by Pythons, which he was more than happy to show us how to fight off if we ever found ourselves on the wrong end of one (the pythons, not the Japanese).

The rocky paths did carry a certain unspoken potency and one could imagine Japanese soldiers treading these very steps in the thick of night ready to fight for the weeks ahead, an area certainly steeped in history and beauty alike.

Following this we were picked back up by the truck, which proceeded to take us back to the Black Lahu village, stopping briefly at a viewpoint for a pretty incredible sunset.

Once back in the village of the Black Lahu or ‘Ban Luk Khao Lam’ to be precise – we made it our mission to meet some locals and share a few Chang’s, there was one shop in the whole village with a rickety door and one cooler full of brews. We then sat down, enjoying the last moments of light whilst being sold various items we had no need for but felt too bad to say no to, including our very own Black Lahu trousers, which Jacka looked only slightly impressed by when we walked back into his hut that evening. If cultural appropriation was a competition, we’d both be professionals. Jacka was extremely welcoming to us and cooked a feast, including spicy fried chicken bits (some with bone, some without) and various beautifully spiced curries. Once back here we chatted away and he showed us the book he’d written about all the local tribes in the area, it was heartwarming to see his passion and devotion for his home town, despite his university education and employment in Chang Mai and Phuket.

Finlay and I then went out to purchase some of the local rice whisky, which we managed to acquire a half bottle of for 40 baht. This was actually very tasty, and attracted the locals like moths to a lamp. Who we then accidentally led back to Jackas house, like the pied piper of piss-heads. Jacka was thankfully not at home, however we had no idea if we had committed some sort of social faux pas by accidentally inviting these strangers into our house. The rest of the evening was spent by Thai men trying to sell us their wives for the night, and when that failed their daughters, both of which were politely refused. One of the girls we had bought back to Jackas house had a habit of uncontrollably dribbling whilst talking, I still don’t really have an explanation for this, but naturally assume it is something psychosomatic about seeing two Leo dicap/Brad Pitt lookalikes in their own village. Jacka eventually returned, and upon his arrival everyone fled, and we went to bed on a mattress in the other room of his house, which although was very cold, did have a very homely feel.

we awoke the next morning at 8:30, to a slightly disgruntled Jacka, who would only be receiving half of his normal rate thanks to the other people that were meant to be coming with us cancelling. Anyway we packed up and ate a Thai omelette which he prepared for us, this was slightly too oniony but nice nonetheless.

The day would be spent hiking to a Lisu tribe, some 20km away, along a dirt track sometimes used by locals on motorbikes. This was equally as hilly as yesterday’s walk but thankfully had more grip thanks to the various motorbike trail marks, limiting myself to only falling over 3 times in the whole day.

Finlay and I then dutifully decided that when in Rome, we should engage in some guerrilla warfare. This was started by his putting of a dandelion down my back, which stuck to almost every part of my sweat slicked back. Not happy, I decided to retort with operation rolling thunder and crunched up a dead leaf in my hand, preparing to drop it onto his unsuspecting backside. Unfortunately this leaf turned out to be a) poisonous and b) covered in tiny cactus spikes, like a prickly pear. This was all made much worse by my decision to crunch and rub the leaves between my hands, in order to get a fine particle based bombing, thus pursued burning agony which almost bought me to tears. The cherry on the cake being Finlay was situated about 10 metres ahead of me, so I couldn’t even deliver my prickly poisonous package and instead had to drop it and start screaming while water was poured all over my hands and legs where I’d been rubbing them. Bear grylls ended up suffering at the hands of the karmic judicial system, and I felt Farangtastic.

Currently back in Pai having said good bye to Jacka who we dropped at his girlfriends house on the way, washing is needed badly as almost all clothes are coated in dusty red mud/or have been worn for too many days to count, kinda buff to be fair. Sending my thoughts and prayers to the lady at the laundromat that we just handed all our clothes to. Sitting in a hammock writing this up and then probably going to go and sunbathe, expecting 1 more night in Pai and then heading to Chang Rai in pursuit of a boat to take us along the Mekong to Laos. Will update on our progress in around a week, until then, adios.