Hi Everyone,

It’s Friday evening in Chiang Mai, and I made it to the movies! (the 2011 European Union Film Festival) There’s an Italian one (“The Last Pulcinella”) playing as I type, but I figured watching two movies was enough!

What’d I see? “Above the Street, Below the Water” (2009); this Danish film was a bittersweet tail of changing relationships. I’d recommend it . . . but not for kids. Next came a German movie, “Run if you Can” (2009) about an unusual threesome. Also good. Also not for kids really.

How did I get there? With my orange scooter that I rented for 150 baht from a place across the street from the hotel (where I could have rented one for 250 and had it delivered to me; I figured I could handle the walk across the street and save 100 baht! : )

How much did the movies cost? Nada! They were free. And the soda and popcorn was a whopping 55 baht. Some things in Thailand and really, really cool.

“Okay, what else have you been doing?” You ask.

Well, I went on a three-day, two-night trek up into the mountains north of CM.

But before I tell you about that, I gotta (yes, gotta : ) tell you that some more magic happened Monday night after I posted my last glob entry. How the way back to my hotel I ran into one of my new friends! I’d met this nice lady and her son and girlfriend during the cooking class. We’d ridden the same vehicle to the place and hung out with each other all day. Then, when it came time to leave, they threw me (not literally, but almost) into another bus since I was a lone duck. I got to quickly say goodbye to this nice British lady, but not the other two. And here it was, around 10 p.m. and I was on my way back to the pad to eat SJ-made phad thai and mango sticky rice when I ran into her! She told me how her son had been so disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye . . . I’ll just to to the hotel, I said. And I did. While she went searching for a place to change their plane seating, I found their inexpensive-but-very-nice-350-baht-a-night hotel. Introduced myself to the proprietor who was playing cards with a group of fun-loving women, convinced them that I had indeed just seen the mother . . . and was not a mass murdered, and gained entry into the building. Up one flight and there they were enjoying their specially made food with a Chang. : ) We had a fun visit (with the mom too who returned quickly unsuccessful with her mission) until my eyes were drooping so heavily and my stomach was growling incessantly . . . but, I think my noodles tasted so much better having been tempered with a helping of new friendship. So it goes . . .

Okay, the trek. “What was it like?”

Well, it was fun; it was muddy; it was lazy; it was goofy; it was a great success.

It’s so amazing how you can throw 12 complete strangers together in the back of a truck (they have a special name for it that I’m too lazy to look up, excusez moi, s’il vous plait), stir a little, add some heat, and cook up a tasty stew of new friendships. By the end of three days, we were practically kissing cousins.

“What’d we do?”

We walked. Through rice fields (with water is “regular” rice, without is sticky rice, so they say . . ), down muddy paths, up paved roads, through Karen villages, and in a bamboo forest . . . and we hung out–till noon the second day. We played cards, smoked bad cigarettes (well, some of us watched, but it was fun), learned goofy Karen jokes, listened to locals play some intruments, tried the instruments ourselves (one was a 7-string somethingorother), ate rice, lots of rice, and noodles, and well, drank Chang beer . . . oh, and we swam in two different swimming holes with waterfalls (the water was mostly clear). At the first one, the water was quite strong and two of the darling Spaniards almost got washed away (for real), but our 25-year old Karen guide moved the quickest he ever did during the 3-days and “caught” them and then got them to safety. His name? “Call me potato,” he told us the first day. And we did. I lost track of how many times the lovely Spanish ladies yelled, “Potato! Potato! There’s a spider! Potato!”

: ) Yeah, it made us all smile too.

“And the rest of the 12?” you ask.

A family of five Danes–a really beautiful family, two teenage boys and a fiesty 11-year old girl. She’s strong! She often lead us as we walked. A pair of three who met while backpacking. One is a French former model (male). And two live in Arizona, though they met in Burma. Yep, makes sense in that goofy happenstance way that traveling and meeting people just somehow works out so perfectly.

5 Spaniards, 5 Danes, 1 French man, 2 women from Arizona (an American young lady who’d been studying in Singapore for a year and will be returning “home” soon and a Taiwanese lady who calls AZ home–where she teaches Art, “K through 8,” she explained), and moi, the smiling, laughing lady from Kauai . . .

And on the trek, we also rode elephants. I enjoyed it overall, but my heart didn’t feel like they were treated well. Our little guy was so hungry; he kept stopping to eat leaves, branches, whatever he could grab. We gave him two bags worth of bananas and sugar cane . . . but something just didn’t feel completely right.

And we rode these long bamboo poles (about 7 or 8, I think) that were temporarily strapped together with strips of black tire. There were four of us to a raft. The group I was with (the 3 backpackers) was fairly tame; we sat, laughed, got wet bumps, but generally, played it cool. The three Spaniards and eldest Danish boy (who speaks very good German AND English btw) had a rip-roaring time! They rolled the raft several time, got dunked even more, and even took the bamboo poles and steered their way down. The guide looked a bit terrified at the end (for real! his eyes were BIG when they came in ! lol ; )

It was definitely a trek machine . . . a very well organized and oiled machine cranking out one batch of 12-tourist-trekkers after another. Some mastermind has organized the movement of this chain of people from one Karen hut and one Karen “7-11” to another. And they all seemed to be having a good time. And the natives? Well, I think they’re definitely making use of their resources (the terrain and themselves). We often hung out with the small family at the two places where we stayed overnight (we 12 slept in the same hut; there were groupings of 3 mats under the corresponding mosquito nets. The rustic toilets had the kind of basin that you stand on and squat . . . there were large containers of water from which we’d scoop water to pour into the tiny bowl . . . you get the picture).

Tomorrow I head out for BKK where I’ll do heaps of laundry and get myself organized for the next 8-week portion of this saga (Cambodia where I’ll volunteer teach).

The rest of the evening promises some fun scooter riding and some food . . . maybe a heap of tasty noodles. Today I found the wat on the hill 16 km to the northeast of town, along with some sleeping dogs, waterfalls, and pretty scenery.

I’ve enjoyed this part of Thailand; yes, it’s been my favorite so far . . . but I do still remember fondly that trip along the River Kwai . . . and the fun boat ride in BKK, and, and, and . . .

Didn’t read through this, so please excuse me for my missssspellings and Freudian slips.

Do hope you’re all well and enjoying yourselves wherever you are–having a good meal, watching a good movie, reading a good book, or just hanging out with friends and family.

Aloha and a bientot,

sj