I'm typing this missive from a giant blue penguin.
It is big, it is fluffy, and it masks something distinct about Bangkok's dirt and grime. This is a horrible internet cafe off Kao San Road, in the biggest backpacker's cesspool in thailand. The proprietors turned this computer into a penguin with a fluffy pillow, and somehow it has made up for this atrocious connection. I had a lot of equally grimy internet places to choose from, but i chose the one with the penguin. When something's crappy here they make it so cute you absolutely have to buy it or use it. Pete told me this when i arrived and I didn't believe him until I was in a filthy taxi with brand new hello-kitty seatbelts. Long live the cute, long live the grime.
At some point i'll write a book called 'The Oddities of Two Months in Thailand." But for the moment I have some serious catch-up. Right now, I even wish I could write "Ten Days of Holiday Insanity." Instead, i'll have to settle for "One Good Day."
Peter and I did not leave Pai for a week. We spent our days putting around on motorbikes exploring hidden waterfalls, and nights learning about the expat backpacker counterculture that flourishes in the hillsides there. There is a community of internationals that live in Pai, who spend their time making music, firedancing and drinking thai whiskey and beer. They threw amazing parties, but this was not the best part of Pai.
One fine morning, Peter, myself, and two girls (an english playwright and a german board-game designer) went for a motorbike ride. The conditions were absolutely beautiful; one flat stretch of perfect road curving gently through the rice fields. Peter and I were leading, happily buzzing along, leaning into turns, thoroughly enjoying the empty road and warm sun. I squeezed ahead of him, increasing my speed to 80kph, then 90. Another gentle curve, and another... absolutely perfect. At the third curve, a tight one - a dark shadow swung into view, front and center. Before I registered that it was one gaping enormous pothole, it was too late for an evasive turn, so I braced to go over it, dropping my speed to 60 before it was under my front wheel. If it had been a heavier bike, and not a 125cc candy-apple red honda Dream weighing roughly 150 pounds, i would have been able to bump right over it. But it wasn't, and the bike skipped over the hole like a golfball, caught air, flew down on its side, throwing me sliding fifteen feet down the road until I skidded to a halt, dazed by the power of my own foolishness. By the time Peter and the girls came around the corner, i had walked the bike to the side of the road and assessed my shredded pants and scuffed bodyparts.
They pulled up, saw the pothole, understood perfectly. Peter took a picture of my hand with me in the background smiling, which when you zoom in on it, looks like something too horrible to describe. The bike was a bit scruffed up, but fine (the bastard), and so i carefully putted back to the hospital in town. Tiny little thai nurses filled tin bowls with strange liquids from big glass jugs in what I can only assume was an alchemical process, after which they dabbed my wounds with giant q-tips slathered in red goop. They preceded this by saying something in thai, and as soon as the little doctor translated it as "burning sensation," they fried my injury with what felt like pure sulphiric acid (I learned later that it was just some iodine concoction, which is good). They wrapped my hand just below my thumb, so I look like a limping thai kickboxer. I think that the Pai hospital deals with many Stupid Farang Motorbike Injuries, so they knew exactly what to do and I walked out of there with my SFMI's well-bandaged and a enormous bill of 200 baht for the hospital services and antibiotics. That's 5 whole dollars my travel insurance will have to cover when I get home.
So anyhow I spent that day very carefully putting around Pai collecting things like painkillers and extra bandages, after which I slowly made my way up to the nearby hotsprings. I hobbled up in my shredded pants over a windy path past thai families soaking in a beautiful little creek, heated by the geothermal pools on the hillside above. One family laughed at me and called me over to their picnic, asking about my injuries in broken english. They were Lisu (so I introduced myself as Tobias), and smiled a lot while they fed me oranges and hard-boiled eggs they had cooked in the pools, and told me to come over to their house for dinner to meet their extended family. I declined, partially because I had told Peter i'd meet him for dinner in town, and partially because I think they wanted me to meet their young daughter. But they were kind and sweet and took care of me while I sat there enjoying the sun.
On the way back from the hotsprings I stopped at a small elephant camp and met a precocious baby elephant. I took some pictures of her as she patted my shoulders with her leathery trunk, introducing herself as baby Joy. Very cute, very smart, and very big.
When I met up with Peter later that day I felt quite relaxed and happy (and I swear it wasn't just the painkillers). The best part of Pai was that I could find myself in a motorcycle accident and still feel like I had a wonderful day. Not many places are so forgiving of testosterone-induced stupidity. I was lucky, and if anyone asks about the scar on my hand from this point on I can sneer at them and say:
Motorcycle accident. Border of Burma. Goin' 80.
That's the official line (pretend not to know it was kilometers per hour or that i was driving something similar to a scooter).
So to give an thorough update: I am fine. My SFMI's are almost healed, and I'll be slowly retracing my steps over the next few days via email. Expect more from me soon, and a hot and humid xmas to you.
Much Love,
Tobias