The bus from Sukhothai to Chiang Mai was a special little piece of shit on wheels. We paid for “VIP” and spent the first ten minutes of the trip debating whether to vomit or pee on the seats to even the score. We settled on shoving slices of hot tomatoes in between the seat cushions. Thailand: 1; Jen & Cam: 7.
We spent a hot minute in Chiang Mai and then were off to Pai, a hippy paradise nestled in the mountains, hanging in fog and decorated with peace signs in all shapes and sizes. Our first full day was spent at a local café as Cam attempted slash pretended to work on graduate school applications for the second time in six weeks. In the evening we scooted around town on the back of some friends’ motorbikes in search of a live Thai cover rock band. We eventually found them, drank blue mojitos and felt zenned out in this peaceful town. Later in the night we moved onto another bar where there were more police officers making a drug bust than there were people drinking. We sat around a fire and watched what we thought was a rather funny escapade… Maybe not so funny for the consumers of the mushroom milkshakes.
In search of a little adventure, we made the unbelievably intelligent decision to try white water rafting. Nervous that it would be a little too extreme for our liking, the only actual bad part of the day was the four people we were stuck with. Being stuck on a raft with two heinous Dutch people, an incredibly dull French girl and a half decent but goofy South African is enough to drive anyone crazier than they already are. The rafting itself was exhilarating and Jen’s new husband, Soi, helped lighten the mood by pushing her off the raft into the roaring rapids.
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