The people who come out early in the morning for half-day treks on Wednesdays and Sundays generally were born outside Thailand, or at least in other parts of the country. A few qualify as Chiang Mai veterans—twenty years or more.
They bring interesting stories with them. “I’m here to train Muay Thai” [Thai kick boxing] said both an Indian-American from New Jersey and an Irish dude, on separate occasions. “I fly helicopters for Shell Oil out of Borneo,” explained another guy. “I work six weeks on, six weeks off. Chiang Mai is the closest nice place to build myself a house.”
We saunter past colors and critters that are new to most of us—mushrooms, millipedes, berries, anthills, and orchids. Now and then somebody takes a stab at identification, but mostly we just enjoy the open forests and the occasional views back toward the city. Along one section of trail the route is marked by cloth that might once have been orange monks’ robes. Are we being told that the path leads to a temple? That we’re passing through a meditation zone? Nobody is sure.Sometimes several tree trunks end up growing together into goofy shapes that would be equally at home in an amusement park. We half expect to hear Jack coming down the beanstalk. In that spirit, we notice monstrous snails everywhere. Somebody said they’re native to Africa—in Thailand thanks to yet another pest-control scheme gone badly wrong.
We arrive back at the parking lot before lunch, giving us plenty of time to fritter away the afternoon on the Internet.
1 comment:
as soon as you said "enjoy perspiring" I knew that it would be largely expats!
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