2002-02-05

Pai

I kept hearing Lao Tzu's words repeat over and over in my mind like a mantra. I was on my way to Pai, in a foul mood and there was no one to blame but myself.

Botter fixed the LCD display on the motorcycle. One of the connectors inside the headlight assembly had come loose. I was thankful for his help but at the same time annoyed at myself. I had been prepared to simply ride the motorcycle as it was but Botter saw the problem, investigated it and fixed it. I should have done that and in ordinary circumstances I would but here I was so focused on getting from point 'A' to point 'B' that it didn't occur to me. I tell myself that I have to change my thinking.

The bigger problem was in leaving late and not having much time to find a place to stay before dark. Lao Tzu was right. The enjoyment that I should have had is lost and the trip has become an obstacle. This is especially true on a motorcycle because it demands greater concentration and all the more so in a foreign land on a challenging road.

And this was a challenging road for sure. On the map 1095 west from Mae Malai looks fairly straight but it really winds up and down the mountains in a series of relentless turns and switchbacks. The road is covered everywhere with sand and gravel from construction that would be merely a nuisance for a car but can be deadly for a motorcycle. The drops go for a hundred feet or more in places and the highway department doesn't believe in frittering away money on luxuries like guardrails. Screw up here and they may never find me. It's slow going and the frustration rises as I calculate that I will be in Pai even later than I expected.

As I round another corner I come across a herd of yaks being led by the man in the picture. He is carrying a homemade muzzle-loading gun for hunting birds. They even make their own black powder.

I get to Pai before dark and find a bungalow to rent for the night. Hill tribe people have little stalls on the sidewalks and streets to sell food to the locals and trinkets to the tourists. Pai is a westernized village with shops, bars, restaurants and even internet cafes catering to the backpacking crowd. It's not as big as it sounds. Pai consists of one main street with a few side streets attached.

A hill tribe woman selling woven fabrics, purses and hats. They love to bargain with the customers and it's fun attempting it despite sharing no language in common. We both laughed as we bargained using primitive hand signals. I felt better already.

My favorite picture from Pai. It is late evening on the sidewalk near my bungalow and they are singing in a foreign language that I don't recognize. The guitarist is attacking the strings with a furious intensity and his voice has a sort of rough, gravelly edge that perfectly fits the music. I feel compelled to join them and soak it in. The music makes me forget my frustrations from the day and I want it to go on all night but eventually he passes the guitar back to the Thai street musician who had lent it to him. They were tourists who simply sat down for a few minutes to relax and make music like it was the most natural thing to do. I'm ashamed to admit it but I've forgotten how much pleasure there is in simple things like this. I'm liking Pai even more now.

The Be-bop. It's just up the street from the Heartbreak Hotel (no vacancy tonight.) The band consists of two Thai musicians and anyone who wishes to volunteer from the audience. They play a decent "Hey Joe" and I feel relieved that the music I like hasn't gone entirely out of fashion. Then this man gets up with a harmonica and a voice that sounds as though it comes from someone much beyond his years as he electrifies me with "Pride and Joy." He could play Austin any time. I am awestruck by his performance. Who would have thought I would stumble into such talent on the streets of a small village in Thailand? It reminds me much of what was so wonderful about Santa Cruz before the earthquake. I wish I could preserve it in something more than just the pictures and words of this journal.