Pai Pai beard

Wed 22 - Mon 27 Jan 2014

The usual packing panic and chaos set in as we collected all of our worldly possessions and stuffed them back into our packs. Leaving Jamie Slow Packer behind, I ran out to grab some takeaway breakfast snacks for the journey. I dodged the overpriced croissants from Thapae, deciding we really should experience an alternative breakfast restaurant before leaving Chiang Mai.

I'd remembered sarnies on the menu at the weird bar we stopped in the previous night, so I headed there. The English down-and-outs were still propping up the bar, but this time it was coffee in their shaky hands. The laid-back south London owner slowly prepared two cheese and ham baguettes with mayo and mustard and gave me some top tips for things to do in Pai whilst I anxiously clock-watched and grew more concerned about missing our ride.

With baguettes in hand and a leaking, boiling hot takeaway coffee, I rushed back to our guesthouse, trying not to scald my fingers. Jamie was lugging all the bags down to reception on his lonesome, so I dropped off the snacks and grabbed some of the luggage from him.

"9 to 9:30 bus will come," the owner called out. The rush was over, and we split a baguette and enjoyed the coffee whilst we waited.

As with any journey here in Thailand, we swapped from one mode of transport to another. Once on the actual minibus, we started the windy journey to Pai. It begins fairly normal as you drive the main motorway-like road out of Chiang Mai, but before long the road shrinks as it creeps into the mountains, and the hair-raising bends start and feel like they'll never end.

For any normal person, napping on this bumpy, bendy drive akin to a roller coaster would be impossible, but being able to sleep pretty much anywhere, I soon dozed off, leaving Jamie hanging on for dear life as we hurtled around every corner.

After what seemed like a ten-minute ride (for me, and a six-hour ride for Jamie), we were dropped off outside AYA services on Pai Walking Street.

This place is the main transport/tourism office in Pai and is always swarming with people collecting peds, booking onward travel, or arranging thrilling day trips. Dodging the crowds, we started the big search for accommodation. We took a turn that led us to the river and selectively enquired about rooms. Full or overpriced—the usual story.

We continued down the river and got to a bamboo bridge. I took off my pack and told Jamie I'd investigate. Somewhere during the rushed morning pack, he had ended up with all of the heavy things and me with all the light stuff, so I gave him a well-deserved rest.

I was a quarter of the way over the bridge when I registered Mr. Barrington Levy's beautiful, booming voice filling the air.

"Follow Barrington!" Jamie called out.
"I'm already on it."

It was a sign... the place was perfect, the price was right, the staff super friendly, and soothing dancehall and dub continued to play out, sprinkled with all of Barrington's best. It would be the perfect place to chill out. In that moment, we both knew Pai would be everything we'd hoped and more.

We took a walk around the little town, getting our bearings and mentally noting the charming restaurants with mouthwatering menus and remembering to avoid the tofu, hippy-only vegan spots.

We had heard good things about Pai, the little hippy village on a river in the heart of the northern mountains, and it didn't disappoint. It was super touristy, but the travelling crowd was different here. Spotting a head sans dreadlocks was a challenge, as was finding someone who wasn't sporting head-to-toe fully 'authentic' ethnic garb.

There were no neon vests boasting love of this island or that island, no girls so heavily plastered in makeup they were giving the ladyboys a run for their money; not even a sniff of a mass-manufactured Maccy D's bacon double cheese in the crisp mountain air.

It was like the north and the south of Thailand had completely rebelled against each other, and we didn't fit into either crowd.

We'd just demolished a coconut noodle soup and a burger when Jamie started to feel really rough, so we retired back to our bungalow for a recuperation cat nap. He really wasn't back to full health but was keen to get out and exploring again.

At night, the whole town had transformed. For starters, it was freezing cold. In the day, it was averaging 32 degrees, but at night it plummeted to a chilly 8, meaning we had to wrap up in trousers, socks, shoes, and hoodies. Walking Street overflowed with people and food stalls selling everything from jacket spuds to deep-fried cockroaches. Jewellery makers, artists, and Burmese bag sellers filled the small gaps along the road left vacant by the street food vendors.

It was our first night here in Pai when we were blessed with one of the best overhears ever. In Seven Eleven, buying snacks for a midnight feast, we saw a lanky, pasty Canadian guy chatting up a Chinese girl by the dairy counter...

"Have you enjoyed yoghurt your whole life?"

What a line! We didn't hang around to see how he got on, but he definitely deserves points for originality. If his repartee was full of the same, he may well have bored her into bed.

On the walk back, we stopped by a bar called 'Edible Jazz,' where they had a few bonfires to snuggle up by and a French singer covering a variety of songs surprisingly well. I ordered two hot toddies—a good cure for the invalid and a good excuse to warm up with something hot and boozy.

The following day we enjoyed breakfast at our place and headed into town for a walk when I started to feel a little under the weather.

It wasn't long before I had to give in and pack myself off to bed.

This was the beginning of what would be a five-day stint of a god-awful illness which kept me confined to the four concrete walls of our chalet. It turns out that when you don't have tonsils, tonsillitis is just like getting flu... it also turns out that if you don't have tonsils, you can still give tonsillitis to someone who does.

This leads to both flu-like symptoms and the inability to drink, eat, swallow, breathe, and sleep without crying.

It was a long, boring, painful, sleepless five days for the two of us... and to add insult to injury, a quick pampering session turned sour as a scissor-happy Thai lady ignored the requests for a trim and ended up lopping off the well-loved and nurtured beard Jamie had been growing since leaving the UK.

Jamie entered the room solemnly and close to tears to reveal his hairless face. Feeling like Samson, the only cure would be a stiff rum and coke or two.

He's still not fully come to terms with this great loss but is striving on one day at a time.