Pairadise

I spent another enjoyable couple of days in Kanchanaburi - there was so much to see and do there, and I didn't want to do what so many backpackers do - join a day tour where you go to see 4 or 5 different things in one long day, spend most of the day on the minibus, and only have half an hour for each place.It's much better to give yourself the full day for each place, so that you can explore. If the place didn't warrant a full day, I just went back to my hotel, lay sunbathing by the river Kwai with a good book (currently the Glass Palace), a fresh mango shake and lots of insect repellant.

One of my daytrips was the Hellfire pass walk - an 8km walk along a section of the Thai-Burma railway that the Allied POWs were forced to build. The walk was extremely well organised - I was given an audio guide for free that proved to be very informative - it even had some of the prisoners who'd worked on that section of the railway telling some of their stories. Even more impressive was the walkie talkie that I was given, in case I had any problems. Every hour the lady at the visitors centre would check that I was ok, and she told me when it was time to turn back and catch the last bus (I already had done, but it was nice that she thought of that). Sadly my tummy began to feel a bit dodgy right near the 4km turning around point - I tried to make it back to the nearest toilets, but it wasn't going to happen, so I had to do a mad dash into the jungle and drop my trousers. The mosquitos in Thailand are bloody quick on the uptake, and when presented with lilly-white English bum, type O, they don't waste any time. In less than 2 minutes I had 20 new bites all over my bum and thighs. Well I didn't think to put DEET on my arse beforehand did I?
I was starting to feel a bit sorry for myself - between the upset tummy, the bites and the blisters that were forming on my feet, I was finding the last half of the walk pretty tough going, but then I listened to my audio guide, and that put it into perspective. When you think about the poor guys who had to do the same walk, then do 14 hour shifts drilling into rock (with tools so primitive that neanderthal man would have turned his nose up at them), and then walk back again, half of whom were suffering from tropical ulcers on their feet, malaria, dysentry or beriberi and were surviving on a diet that would make Calista Flockhart skinnier, a bout of the runs and a couple of blisters on an 8km walk is nothing.

That evening I got chatting to a group of guys from Singapore who were very curious about me travelling alone, and had lots of recommendations for what to see and do when I get to Singapore. Their English was pretty good, and when they found out I was a maths teacher they kept setting me maths puzzles (I have had many different reactions to my chosen profession over the years, but never a sudden urge to actually do maths problems. I wonder if maths is more popular in Singapore, or did I just meet a bunch of geeky guys? Perhaps I should go and teach in Singapore...)

My next day trip was to the Erawan falls - they are crazily busy at the bottom, where hundreds of day trippers have picnics and go for a swim. As you climb further and further up the mountain, you see waterfall after waterfall, and they get quieter and more beautiful each time as it gets past the effort that most people are willing to go to to see a pretty waterfall. The last 3 waterfalls were about 2km walk up steep paths, and were practically deserted. When I went for a swim in the top one, and rinsed my hair under a spine-archingly chilly waterfall in a sun-dappled pool in the middle of the humid, sticky, liana-filled jungle with enormous butterflies flitting all around me, I felt like I was in paradise. I stayed around at the top waterfalls for a couple of hours, swam, and took loads of pictures. I kept getting adopted by groups of Thai people who wanted to have their photo taken with me, and ask me lots of questions about London. It's nice when you actually go somewhere where ordinary Thai people go, and you get chatting to people who aren't trying to sell you anything. One group tried to convince me to come back to their village with them, so I tried to explain that had all my things in Kanchanaburi, and they seemed to understand, I think, but their English wasn't that great.

The next day I was due to leave, so I spent the evening chatting with a fellow Brit called Traf (I think) who I kept running into in the evenings. He's a great guy - one of those people that you can chat with easily from the minute you meet him - the conversation takes on a life of it's own and just flows without any effort or thought about it. I had to drag myself away as I had to get up at the crack of dawn in order to make the morning train.

The next 2 days were filled with buses and trains as I tried to make my way from Kanchanaburi in the west of the country, to Pai in the north, via Bangkok and Chaing Mai. The train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai was great, I had a second class sleeper berth in an open plan carriage, and I slept like a baby. You know you've been travelling for a while when a second class bed on a train feels like the most comfortable bed EVER.

I had intended to stay a couple of nights in Chaing Mai, but it wasn't at all what I had expected, and I didn't like it that much, it just seemed too cityish - I'm sure there was plenty to do there, but I just wanted a quiet town in the middle of the mountains, so I decided to head straight off to Pai. After some confusion over the bus timetable, I found myself hiring a minibus with 2 Dutch girls, an Australian, a Thai drummer, a monk and a Thai lady called Annie who were all similarly confused. It turned out that Annie owns a guest house in Pai, and she was so lovely and helpful that I decided to stay with her. "Darling" guest house is a peaceful place on the other side of the river to the town, with a magnificent view of Pai, the river, and the surrounding mountains. The bamboo bungalows have huge porches (mine is bigger than my room) kitted out with tables (complete with flowers and fruit that Annie picks and leaves for me), stools, and most importantly hammocks that are perfectly positioned to appreciate the views.

Pai is a wonderful little town of a couple of thousand people - an ecclectic mix of Muslims, Chinese, Shan and long term hippy travellers. Everyone seems to co-exist peacefully and contentedly. It's well on the tourist trail, but in low season it's just lovely - not too crowded with backpackers, but plenty of people to make friends with. I've been here a little over a week now, and I feel like I know half of the town - I can't walk down the street without running into someone whose name I've forgotten. I have a group of friends at "darling" guest house who I hang out with most evenings - Evelyne, Ulli, Monika and Alex. Evelyne and Ulli are two lovely Austrian girls who have been in Pai for a month and a half now. They plan to make it to Vietnam and Laos, but are in no hurry to leave Pai (when you've spent a few days there, it's easy to see why). Monika and Alex on the other hand have been there for nine months, and are making a living by making these beautiful macrame bracelets and necklaces using beads and semi-precious stones, and selling them to tourists. I spend most evenings relaxing with a Singha beer, playing cards and backgammon with them, doing massages (I've just finished a course in Thai massage (more about that later)), teaching them to poi and learning macrame. For the first few nights in Pai there were also three French guys staying at the guest house - David, Jerome and Chris. They would wander round bare chested, and David and Jerome were very obliging when it came to allowing me to practice my massage skills, and were more than happy to reciprocate afterwards.

In the mornings I would get up early for my massage course, and most days Annie would find someone to give me a lift into town so that I'd have time for a proper breakfast. Thai massage is bloody hard work - it's a bit like doing yoga on someone else, and it takes a lot of force, but I really enjoy it. It's oddly satisfying contorting someone else's body into shapes that are unrecognisable as human, until they reach the limits of their pain threshold. The three Israelis that I did the course with gave me the nickname the "mistress of pain" - I have to say the name has grown on me, I might start introducing myself to people as that. Shame I left my whip at home really. The best thing about the course is that when you've finished massaging someone else, they practice on you. Bliss.

On my second day here I ran into Alice, another Austrian girl whom I'd met briefly in Chiang Mai before I caught the bus on to Pai. She's a fantastic character with a great sense of humour - I'd been sorry to have to run off after meeting her in Chiang Mai, so was pleased to run into her again. We'd often meet up for dinner with a couple of German girls from her guest house. One night we went out for a few drinks at the local nightspot - the bebop bar. The band played rock classics and had everyone up and dancing in the middle of the bar before long - a convenient way of escaping the walls which were sadly crawling with cockroaches.

I did what was meant to be a 2 day hill-tribe village visiting walking trek, but I got hit by the same problem as last time, and I took the fact that I ran out of toilet paper in the early afternoon as a sign that I should join the one day trekking group, go home early and be near my toilet. Sadly when we made it to the villages, the villagers were all either working in the fields, or hiding from yet another group of annoying tourists. The day would have been a complete waste of time if it weren't for the views, which went at least part of the way towards making up for how shit I felt!

When I got back to my bungalow, I discovered that I had a new roommate - a baby scorpion in my bathroom. Given that I was feeling a bit wobbly, trying to remove the scorpion using the old glass and cardboard technique didn't seem like such a good idea, and I couldn't avoid the bathroom, so I just resigned myself to sharing the bathroom with a scorpion for a while. I even washed my hair with it about a foot away. Believe me when I say that I didn't take my eyes off it for the whole time. The scorpion eventually moved out, and since then I have shared my bathroom with a succession of snails, geckos, ants, spiders and the ubiquitous mosquitos.

I went on an elephant trek this morning with Ulli (Evelyne didn't seem willing or able to leave her bed) and an Australian guy called Paul. Ulli and I shared a seat on one elephant at first, and Paul rode his elephant bareback. The elephants were led along ludicrously narrow paths through the jungle by their handlers - Nop (a gorgeous Karen guy who would climb from elephant to elephant so easily you'd think he was just walking across the room, he even climbed onto the elephant by walking up it's trunk once - Legolas has nothing on this guy) and Cooe (a younger Lisu guy who simply had the most joyful, beautiful smile I've ever seen). Nop asked if Ulli or I wanted to ride bareback on the elephant - I jumped at the chance. It was the wierdest thing at first - with every step, the elephent's shoulders would shift, and I constantly felt like I was going to fall at any second, but I gradually worked out how to keep my balance by leaning forward, putting my legs behind and leaning on them. After a while it almost felt natural (except when the elephant got hungry - which was all of the time - and felt the need to rip down half a tree in one go - I was clinging on for dear life at that point). Ulli on the other hand put me to shame, after 15 minutes she looked like she'd been riding elephants for her entire life - she had such a natural seat! Paul asked if either of us fancied riding solo on his elephant - it sounded pretty cool until I realised that I would have to climb from one elephant to the other without the raised platform that we had at the elephant camp. This was compounded by the fact that we couldn't get the elephants to stand closer together than a foot apart. We just about managed it, although it was bloody terrifying for a couple of seconds, and Paul nearly fell off, but we both survived to tell the tale. Riding solo was great fun - at one point, just to make the others laugh, I made the clicking noise that you do to get a horse to trot. Much to my horror, my elephant (that I was now on on my own) seemed to understand this noise perfectly, and changed from a slow amble to an alarmingly fast jog. Thankfully the handlers noticed pretty quickly (I think my screaming fu-uu-uuu-uuu-uuuuu-uuu-u-uuuuuuck probably helped), and got the elephant to slow down again. We went back to the elephant camp on the way to the river, and found that Alex and Monika had come to meet us. Nop and Cooe asked if they wanted to join us for the elephant washing, so on they climbed and off we set. We got to the river and were joined by lots of screaming boys on bicycles who wanted to see the farang get soaked. The elephants slowly strolled into the water, sat down, and then slowly rolled onto it's side, flinging us into the muddy water in the process. It was great fun - we'd clamber back on, get a good grip, and then try to cling on while the elephant shook it's head and rolled over again. It was kind of like a bucking bronco, except it was bigger, muddier, and had a propensity to blow water over us periodically with it's trunk. By the time we came back we were filthy, but it was soooo much fun - probably the most enjoyable thing I've done so far.

To anyone who's concerned about the coup that happened a couple of days ago - don't be, it has been the biggest non-event ever (I realise that the lack of molotov cocktails and looting is definitely a good thing but still, I'm a bit disappointed). Everyone seems to be happy that the prime minister has been ousted (he's a bit of a shit by all accounts), but if it wasn't for CNN and the papers, you wouldn't know anything had happened.

There's a fair chance that I may be coming home for a while soon to see my family, so I'll try to keep everyone updated on that. For now I'm staying in Pai and enjoying the lazy life with my friends.