3.14 it is not.

Pai

I was told the song-tow that would be picking me up would most likely arrive late.   This was OK with me because on this day I wasn’t feeling at all well. As I laid on the bench outside my guesthouse, my head pounding and my belly in knots, I silently prayed the song-tow would not show up at all. 

Yes I was out the night before but not overly late nor did I overly indulge.  So I knew this feeling of ill was something more than a hangover and that I probably should not be traveling today. But how does that old saying go; don’t let fear or common sense get in your way. 

Now you know what it is like when you are down and hurting. I so wanted all the song-tows to be broken down that day. No taxis. No tuk-tuks. No song-tows. All I wanted to do was to continue lying on that bench while I slowly perished. But wouldn’t you know it, not only was the song-tow not broken it was on time this day and so began my trip to Pai, promptly at two and feeling like hell.

So long beloved guesthouse. So long amazing Chiang Mai. Hello journey.

Now if you haven’t seen or heard of a song-tow before let me give you a quick lesson. They are small pickup trucks with an enclosure over the box and bench seating for the passengers. People use song-tows much like one uses a public bus. Today was a bit different. This song-tow was hired to pick up passengers at certain guesthouses and bring them to a meeting place a short distance away.

a song-tow

With my backpack in one hand and a bottle of water in the other I haul my sorry butt up into the back of the song-tow and happily say “Good day” to the three passengers already seated inside. I quickly found out that two of the passengers were a couple from Belgium and the third was an arrogant older Frenchman.

Yes I know that to use arrogant and Frenchman in the same sentence may seem redundant to some but this is my blog and I will be wordy if I want.

I say he was arrogant because upon hearing my “Good day” he quickly spoke up and said “Oh an Australian” 

“No” I replied “Canadian”

“Uh... you’re English. You are all the same. English have it easy. Everybody speaks English.”

Luck was with this fellow this day because with my head pounding, a belly full of Pad Thai and Pepto-Bismol, I could do nothing more than take my seat and lower my head into my hands. All the while wishing this fellow would have a brain aneurism and roll out of the back of my song-tow.

As the song-tow and my belly lurked along the backstreets of Chiang Mai we stopped and picked up more and more passengers. Soon all conversation around me ceased as the number of passengers began to grow uncomfortable. Now a song-tow can hold six to eight people comfortably.  When we finished trying to pick people up we had eleven people and their backpacks all stuffed into the little red song-tow. 

People backpacks are for traveling lightly! Mine weighs in at 10kgs for my entire trip. This includes two cameras, a laptop, a first aid kit, all my clothes and some stuff I really don’t need. I see couples with a pack each; weight 20 kilos a piece on top of this they have a small pack across their front. Idiots I say. Sorry I digress back to the journey.

Yes the journey. We arrive at the spot where a van is to pick us up for the remainder of our trip. An air conditioned VIP van just for us. So as I stand on the sidewalk waiting for the VIP van I smile. I smile in spite of my health or lack of it. I smile in spite of the diesel fumes I am inhaling from the never ending stream of transport trucks passing by.  In spite of the fish sauce and the Chile peppers searing in the wok beside me that threaten to choke the very breath out of my lungs. I smile because soon I will be in an air con VIP van. Comfortable and content while cruising through the Thai country side on my way to the heaven called Pai.

I smiled like a fool for that is what I was, a fool working on his ever increasing mistakes tally and doing a good job at it.