One week ago I jumped into a mini-van with ten other backpackers and watched the streets of Chiang Mai turn to rural land on the 3.5 hour drive to Pai. I was eager to leave the urban lifestyle for the country—two days in Chiang Mai confirmed that city life, while fun to visit, is not for me. Take me back to nature.
The path to Pai, just 25 miles outside the Myanmar border in northern Thailand, is full of steep and windy mountain roads. About an hour in I began to feel ill. Motion sickness is rare for me but with the combination of stuffy van, 90’s love song tracks on repeat and the girl next to me eating what I can only assume to be dried squid flakes, it hit me hard. Crap—2.5 more hours of this? I closed my eyes as Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On filled the van and visualized a young Leonardo DiCaprio’s love scenes to ease the discomfort.
At the halfway point, the driver pulled over at a small market and set us free. I ordered a delicious $1 iced espresso, made some new Australian and Spanish friends and mentally prepared for round two.
Surrounded by mountains, I almost felt like I was back home, except in a much more dense and lush forest of trees and fields as far as the eyes could see. Traces of civilization began popping up and I could sense the end was near. We turned a corner and stopped just feet short from an elephant taking up the road—the first I’ve seen in Thailand. The landscape opened up as we entered the valley, surrounded by steep hills on both sides.
A wall of clouds hovered over the mountain range, dancing across the peaks and seeping into its maze of crevices. Beams of sunlight pierced through the breaks—a moving spotlight highlighting pockets of rice fields and villages below.
In awe of the idyllic storybook setting, I was taken back to the same feeling experienced in Koh Tao when I first stepped onto the beach and life didn’t feel real. Something told me I’d be calling this place home for a while.
The van dropped us off in the middle of town, where I caught a bicycle taxi ride to my hostel. Spicypai had been recommended by others I’d met in Chiang Mai and the excitement began to build as the driver pulled into a gravel road in front of a rice patty field with sweeping views of the forest and mountains. There was a compound of bamboo and straw huts, an open air loft at the center with people swinging in hammocks and strumming guitars.
A friendly Thai girl collected my rent for the night and directed me to my hut. We navigated through moats and bamboo bridges and concrete paths, and as we arrived she stopped and yelled “Look!” and proceeded to pull a large black crab from the pond. “Dinner!” she laughed as she captured her find and brought it back to another hut. I threw my backpack onto the bed and knew I’d made a good choice at just $5/night.
Nature thrives here on so many levels. From the plant life to the animals and insects to the weather that is in constant metamorphosis, its presence is always felt.
The first bathroom I walked into had its own ecosystem—a frog, snail, cricket, lizard, moth and colony of ants surrounded me at once and each day I discover a new species. I’m now used to getting attacked by mosquitos in the outdoor shower and flicking off giant ants crawling across my keyboard while I type.
When I went to drop my laundry off, the owner was carrying around what appeared to be a housefly on steroids with a broken wing who chirped when she pet it. I asked what it was and she yelled “bug!”. “Oh okay… What’s his name?” I asked. “Bug!” she repeated. Fair enough. Still no idea what it is.
The climate is consistent here from day to night and a welcome break from the stifling heat of the south. Clouds, sunlight and rain swirl above the valley in frequent intervals, just as alive as the land beneath them. A cool breeze travels off the mountains and provides natural air conditioning, circulating the scents of street food, fruit shakes, burning trash smoke and damp earth. It’s my favorite smelling city of Thailand so far.
The day after settling into my hostel I met an American girl, also from San Francisco and we formed a quick bond. The sights around Pai are best accessed by motorbike, so we both rented one and with a map in hand, set off to explore. The drive through the countryside was breathtaking as we passed rice and corn fields, villages, elephant camps, temples and crossed rivers and valleys, surrounded by steep lush mountains.
Pai is known as a hippie town where, like Koh Tao, tourists come to visit and never leave. My hostel mates are friendly and welcoming and there’s a close knit family dynamic. They lounge in the loft all day, jamming their instruments and singing, napping in hammocks, playing card games and laughing at drunken events from the night before.
Most of them are wrapped in bandages, sometimes from fresh tattoos but usually from scooter accidents. They said those wounds are a right of passage in Pai and I prayed to avoid that initiation.
On the first outing, I left my camera in the dorm by mistake and had to settle for these iPhone photos.
My new Californian friend and I hiked the Pai canyon then jumped off rocks beneath the waterfall to cool off.
The events of the next several days blended together into a single span of time spent exploring, adventuring, meeting new friends and never remembering what day it is or how long I’d been here.
Typically I’d roll out of bed at around 8–9am, climb into the loft with my laptop and catch up on business, sip coffee with the group, snack on toast and bananas and decided on plans for the day. By noon I’d wrap up with work and head into town on my scooter to grab lunch with a friend on our way to a new location. We’d drive to waterfalls, hot springs, villages and temples—whatever sounds fun that day.
Before sunset we return, resting up for the long night out. We ride back into town, strolling down the main road sampling street food and stepping into shops.
(Street food skewers and dragon fruit slices for $1. I eat all day everyday here.)
Pai is a small town and everyone ends up at the same places, so we always run into people we met earlier that day.
We stop into the busier bars for a drink and leave with new friends each time. As the night rolls on, the crowd ends up in the same bar together and we all head to the last open bar at midnight when the city enforces the noise ordinance. Between 2–4am I call it a night and return to my hostel to get as much sleep as possible before repeating the cycle. It’s definitely not a lifestyle that can be sustained forever, but part of me never wants it to end.
My last day with the scooter was spent swimming and sliding down waterfalls with a Malaysian girl I’d become close to over the past few days. On our way back to the hostel I felt so lucky to have made it five days without injury unlike nearly everyone else in town.
The road in front of Spicypai is a mix of crumbling and loose gravel, and as I turned my scooter in to park, the front tire caught a rock and kicked it sideways, dropping the bike and taking me with it. A bystander ran over to pull it off me and I was left with bloody hands, knees and a chunk of skin missing from my foot. Damnit… I was so close! Back home these injuries wouldn’t be a big deal but here the smallest wounds become infected and take months to heal. I had just signed up for a 3-day trek through the jungle, away from civilization and medical care, and there was no turning back. I decided to stick with the plan and tough this one out.
I spent the morning before the trek lounging in the loft with a few others. We sat in silence together watching the sunlight pour in as the cloud wall grazed the mountains, exposing the wet earth below. Bon Iver played through a speaker and I felt the hairs on my skin raise. In this moment of magic, time stopped and I understood—this is why people never leave.
It’s hard to put into words, the beauty and energy and spirit of this small town. So I take as many photos as possible but even those can’t possibly do it justice.
Tomorrow I’ll catch a bus back to Chiang Mai to take care of a few things before my Thai visa expires next week then it’s off to a new country. I have some of my favorite stories and images ever captured from my trekking experience to share next. I’ll need a few days to sort them out and recover from the journey, but the best is yet to come…
Suzanne says
I am loving traveling this journey with you through your posts and photos! I look forward to each new adventure, and even worry a little about you when we haven’t heard from you in a few days. Safe travels!
Donna says
I love reading your posts about your journey.. Stay safe.
P.S. Btw, that was not a passion fruit, that was a purple dragon fruit;) you should try the white dragon fruit next time:)
Kristin says
I am loving your new blog posts…. The scenery is amazing, as is your writing, and I find myself checking constantly for an update on your latest experiences. That is most definitely a cicada – we have lots here in Australia…. Your passionfruit looks very much like what we call dragonfruit here – if it’s the same, it is so refreshing and delicious, I’d be eating it every day too 🙂
Nikki says
Your blog is so inspiring, before all I could think was, “What?! No who will tell me all the pitfalls BEFORE I DIM (Do-it-myself)?!” Haha. Now I eagerly anticipate the next blog post! I love reading about your journey and how happy you are! As for the bug, I needed to know though it reminded me of a Cicada. I found out Thailand has their own breeds of Cicada and they have the same markings as your photo, you should sell some of your photography to magazines or enter National Geographic, there aren’t enough images like yours on the net!
Thank you for sharing your wonderful journey with beautiful photos.
Stay Safe! Nikki
jane says
Jenna – I agree with all of the other posts. I am so enjoying following your journey. Stay safe on your voyage.
Jane
Sarah @ Life On Virginia Street says
I’m loving your journey so much!
Gail says
You write so well. And your pictures are wonderful. I’m enjoying your posts.
I am twice or more older than you..so I am living this adventure vicariously thru you. Thank you!
Keep safe. Stay healthy. And have a wonderful time.
Love you much.
Di says
You write so beautifully ….thank you for sharing your journey. Stay safe .
Susan says
I agree that you need to write a book. you have a great talent for writing. I find myself rereading sentences asking myself how you came up with those words. I really look forward to your posts, I always loved your design posts but these are really great. It’s like living vicaroiusly through you. I think a lot of us crave to do what you are doing but don’t have the means or it isn’t possible (i.e. kids) I hope you continue to your journey and soak in every moment. Look forward to hearing more and more!
Stay Safe,
Susan
Laura says
I’ve never commented on your blog before but have been following you a long time. I am so intrigued by this journey you are taking. I told my husband about your trip and how I was worried you had not posted for awhile. I don’t even know you and I’m obsessed with what you are doing!
I agree with everyone else in that you have a gift when it comes to writing and your photography is outstanding.
Anyway, happy & safe travels and I look forward to each and every post.
Thank you for documenting it!
Lisa says
Hi Jenna!
I, like Laura, told my husband I was worried about you, and i’m just a long-time reader! (I’ve said a special prayer for your mom!) I’m so happy to hear that you are well and having a great adventure. Just this morning I was thinking that I’ll bet you are learning so much about yourself and realizing that you are stronger and more adventurous than you would have ever imagined. I was also thinking that I could never do what you are doing, yet I realized that I’ve experienced things in my life that forced me to be stronger than I could have imagined. In other words, we have a lot of untapped strengh that we will only understand once it is brought to the surface.
Have fun, and be safe! You have many readers following along 🙂
Sherri says
It was so good getting an update. I’m glad Pai resonated with you. Sorry about the scooter incident, but it sounds like you made it out of the jungle without the cuts getting infected. A broken phone pales in comparison, just a hassle! You would be a good candidate for “Survivor.” I couldn’t do the bug on the arm! …..When you hadn’t posted, I felt like I had lost contact with a friend. And after describing some of the experiences there, it was understandable to jump to the conclusion that something was amiss. I’m happy we got our Jenna Sue back! And I agree, you have a poetic style of writing, so there has to be a book coming! Stay healthy, safe, and happy!
Jill says
Yep, that bug definitely looks like a Cicada to me. We have them in the states, but I think they’re more common here in the south. They make sounds that are part of a typical summer evening here and emerge after years of being buried in the ground.
Iris Nacole says
You are on quite the adventure, Jenna! I look forward to each of your updates, since you tell your story so well, and share the most beautiful pictures along with it! It really makes me happy to see that you are finding what you set out for. Keep enjoying yourself, and be safe!
kathleen says
I believe that bug is a cicada! You need to turn all of this into a book. Good luck on your next adventure.
Catherine says
You are such a talented writer and photographer. Your Thailand blog posts are the ones I look forward to most out of all the blogs I follow. I can’t wait to hear about your next adventures!