Life of Pai, Thailand.

Life of Pai, Thailand.

June 2015.

I have never been particularly happy doing long car journeys. I get carsick, you see. Especially when you start throwing in twists and turns on mountainous roads. One of the worst drives I’ve ever experienced was when I took the bus from Chiang Mai to Pai. I knew it was going to be twisty, but I reckon I may have underestimated just how twisty.

It was only later that I discovered that the 128 kilometre route contains no less than 792 bends! I think it was around the 100 mark that I began feeling queasy. Later, somewhere in the 350-400 bend part of the journey, I felt certain that I was about to part company with the contents of my stomach.

Somehow though I managed to pull through without embarrassing myself in the bus. Scanning my fellow passengers, I could see that I wasn’t the only one feeling a huge sense of relief as we arrived in one of Thailand’s most stunning mountain valley towns.

When the bus finally came to a stop on Pai’s main drag, I couldn’t get off fast enough. Resting on a bench and greedily gulping down the fresh air, I took a few minutes to compose myself before setting off for my guesthouse.

Life of Pai, Thailand.

Pai’s main street is stuffed full of restaurants, cafes, bars and stores. But it would be almost criminal to come here and stay on Rungsiyanon Road. Because the whole appeal of Pai is that it has some of the most beautiful scenery in northern Thailand.

So I chose a guesthouse a little outside of town called Pai Phu Fah. It was incredibly idyllic, a series of painted wooden chalets peppered around a meticulous garden.

My actual lodgings were basic at best. But I didn’t mind. Rather, I was willing to accept that this was rustic living at an economical price. After all, the toilet flushed and the bed was comfy, with a mosquito net that kept out unwanted visitors. Which was good enough for me.

That garden was such a peaceful place. Behind the final row of chalets, and the wooden fence that surrounded the complex, lay open rice fields and rolling hills as far as the eye could see.

Pai Phu Fah Guesthouse.

In the mornings, cradling my cup of coffee, I’d stand and stare out over the countryside inhaling the stillness. Don’t think I ever saw so much as a farmer tending to the land. Just the occasional bird gliding through the air, sometimes swooping down to claim some poor unseen creature.

On that first afternoon I had no ambition for anything other than exploring the area around Pai Phu Fah. What I found was a series of country trails leading to and around some small villages. On one such path I followed a muddy river towards a tiny community. The views were just gorgeous, despite the murky colour of the water and the greyness of the day.

The village I came upon showed few signs of life. From what I could gather it was a rice farmer’s commune. I caught just a glimpse or two of the actual farmers moving between the grand wooden houses they’d built for themselves. I was trying to find a name for the place on my phone, but map results failed to turn up anything concrete.

That evening I walked into town for some food. Prior to coming I had read much about Pai’s flourishing food and drink scene. Dozens of new eateries had recently opened, with local business owners championed by tourists and expats alike for their culinary talent and experimentation. I took my first meal at Maya Burger Queen, a restaurant with a reputation for meaty burgers and playful toppings.

Life of Pai, Thailand.

I went for a double cheeseburger with tomato, lettuce, mushrooms and pineapple smothered in barbecue sauce. As I recall, it was decent. While waiting for my order, I got chatting to a pair of British Indian brothers, Gagan and Ravi. Immediately we hit it off, bonding over our travel experiences and a communal wry sense of humour.

We had such a laugh, the three of us decided to see Pai’s famous White Buddha together the next day. Perched atop a lush green hill on the eastern outskirts of town, the White Buddha is part of a temple complex called Wat Phra That Mae Yen. It took us about twenty minutes to reach the entrance staircase to the hill from the centre of town.

As you can see there were a lot of steps, 353 to be precise. The climb was steep and in the unforgiving afternoon sun we soon found ourselves drenched in sweat. In fact, we quickly learned that the key to not collapsing was to take several breaks as we ascended. Just a one-minute timeout here and there to catch our breath and guzzle from our water bottles.

Eventually, the top of the staircase came into view and we dragged ourselves up into the temple grounds. Our victory exclamations came in mixed forms: a relieved sigh, a wordless punch of the air and an exhausted “Thank **** for that”. I’ll leave you to speculate on which reaction was mine.

Life of Pai, Thailand.

As misfortune would have it (and has so often had it over the years) I found the temple closed for restoration work. This was a pity, as according to numerous articles online the temple is ancient. So old, in fact, that historians don’t know precisely when it was built. “It has stood for a long time” suggests my favourite source, the Tourism Authority of Thailand.

In contrast, The White Buddha is a modern creation that came to completion in 2014 after a 12 year construction project.

Unveiled less than a year before my visit, it was sparkling white. So new that the wooden supportive framework had not yet been removed from its giant back. “Maybe next month they take it off”, explained a local man who spotted me photographing the monstrosity.

From the platform on which the Buddha sits we enjoyed magnificent views of Pai’s sweeping countryside. Someone had even been kind enough to build a wooden throne for me so that I could look all important as I took a load off after the demanding climb.

Views from The White Buddha.

That evening, back in town, Gagan, Ravi and I had dinner at Na’s Kitchen where we toasted our hike with a round of mango shakes. Yes, that’s how rock n’ roll we were.

Ordering a trio of creamy Chicken Panang Curries, we plotted another hike for the following day. This one would raise the stakes much higher than a 353-step staircase. The curry was amazing by the way, with an irresistible sauce comprised of chilli peppers, ginger, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves and coriander, to name just some of the ingredients.

The next morning we set off for Pai Canyon, a 3.5 mile stretch of dusty trails and rocky slopes that lead to a viewpoint. Located 8km out of town on Highway 1095, we had initially planned on grabbing a tuk tuk. But in the end the owner at my guesthouse offered to give us a lift. This was the second time in just a few weeks that I found myself climbing in the back of a pickup for a free ride following my sunset adventure in Ko Lanta.

We arrived late morning to find the canyon perfectly empty. This was very much the plan, even though we understood that the ferocity of the afternoon sun was gonna be tough to deal with.

In order to avoid the heat, most visitors come either very early or at sunset. I have never been that great with early rises. Moreover, I had no desire to join the drooling masses that flock here for sundown. For me the payoff of getting all hot and bothered was worth it.

Pai Canyon.

Hence we gritted our teeth and prepared for battle. The walkways were surprisingly narrow, and with no railings (or indeed any safety measures whatsoever) in place, we took the hike slowly and carefully.

Looking back, I should have worn some proper shoes, not my sandals. But overall it was fine, with no slips or mishaps to speak of. Here and there, it was necessary to get on all fours and pick our way up a few tricky inclines.

Happily, there were plenty of large, flat platforms where we could stop and rest. To drink water, take a breather and reapply sunscreen.

As challenging as it was, we were rewarded with gorgeous views in all directions. Of green valleys, nearby forests and distant mountains. It was breathtaking, and all the more so to experience everything in near silence.

It took us just under an hour and a half to reach the main viewpoint. Some of the ledges towards the end were a touch hairy, but manageable enough when tackled single file with caution.

At the viewpoint we flopped out for a while, content but tired. And lamenting the fact that soon we’d have to turn around and make our way back to the entrance. “Ah, let’s give it another five minutes” said Ravi, lying on his back, staring up at the sky.

Life of Pai, Thailand.

All three of us were pretty knackered by the time we returned to the canyon entrance. I’d expected there to be some tuk tuk’s knocking around, but the entire area was deserted. As a result, we started walking back to town. I did not fancy walking all eight kilometres and felt sure that we could flag down a passing tuk tuk. Or maybe even hitch another lift.

Unfortunately, no such chariot appeared. So we walked… and walked… and walked. It was still stiflingly hot and after a few kilometres my legs were starting to complain. Far off in the distance, we caught sight of The White Buddha nestled in the hills, which lifted my spirits a little.

At some point we came across a roadside cafe. It was the perfect opportunity to sit, order some smoothies and curse our rotten luck with the strange lack of tuk tuks.

And then it was back on our feet for more damn walking. “3 Kilometres” called Ravi with a weary shake of the head as another car sped past, ignoring our raised hands and thumbs.

Adventures in Thailand.

I have no regrets about that walk, you know. Especially as it led us to the fun sight of the retired Welcome to Pai bus. For nearly twenty years this distinctive red bus ferried people back and forth between Chiang Mai and Pai before being put out to pasture on the side of the highway. It now stands grounded as a tourist attraction of sorts.

For the final kilometre we were treated to some of Pai’s most picture perfect guesthouses. There were so many I made do with photographing just a handful, such as this idyllic cottage with ponies grazing on the front lawn.

Another of my favourites was this wonderfully crafted tree house hotel with a slate roof. Wooden balconies looked out over a spotless garden where two classic cars sat parked on the lawn.

The most impressive though, arguably, was this massive country house barn. The kind of thing you might expect to see in the midwest of the United States instead of rural Thailand. It was an amazing structure, spoilt a little by the fact that there was scaffolding up on both sides and the sound of distant drilling.

That evening’s dinner came at my favourite Pai Restaurant, the charming Lemon Thyme Cafe. Looking at their recent reviews, I would imagine there has been a change of management. But back in the summer of 2015 two young local brothers ran the place.

Lemon Thyme Cafe.

When I say young, I’m not kidding, as they looked like teenagers. And yet, these two ambitious Thais launched the cafe themselves and did everything between them. Yup, from the ordering and the cooking to the serving, washing up and dealing with payments. Shy, smiley, modest and softly-spoken, it’s hard to imagine them being the subject of recent bad reviews where diners have complained of rude and arrogant staff. Things change I guess.

The cafe had a reputation for experimental dishes. Indeed, I couldn’t resist ordering a bowl of pork sausage and chicken pasta served with tomato and onion in peanut sauce. Topped with melted cheese, naturally. It was delicious.

Gagan and Ravi were about to head off on the next part of their Thai journey. I forget exactly where they were going, but on their last day we embarked on one final jaunt. Renting bikes, the three of us rode deep into the countryside looking for the jungle trail that leads to Mae Yen Waterfall.

In terms of finding the actual waterfall the project was a total failure. We lost over an hour trying to find the right trail, after which we realised there was a point where we could no longer proceed with our bikes. So we chained them up together against a tree and continued on foot, going deeper and deeper into the jungle.

Life of Pai, Thailand.

Eventually, the signs for the waterfall petered out and we had no idea where to go. We could have pressed on and made more of a fist of it, but there was a sense of apathy creeping in. Furthermore, I had to be back for a scheduled job interview on Skype for an English teaching post in the Spanish town of Castro Urdiales. Therefore we regretfully abandoned the search and made our way back home.

The following day Gagan and Ravi departed and I spent the next few days resting in Pai. Then, it was time for me to move on too. Not only to my next destination, but to the last location of my two-month stay in Thailand. It’s always shit when you realise that a great adventure is coming to an end. Nevertheless, I was determined to make the most of my time in the fascinating city of Chiang Rai. Until then…

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