"762 curves on highway 1095". It says it right there on all the T-Shirts and mugs.

Early in our trip on the minibus today, we were given small bags . Everyone took one and passed the rest around. The driver spoke very little english, which probably didn't matter, since none of the passengers except me did either. The other passengers were Korean, I think. I tried to communicate with them but they just smiled and shook their heads.

One person used the bag for a trash bag. Maybe that's what they are for, to keep the bus tidy. A third of the way into our journey from Chiang Mai to Pai, the minibus started doing hairpin turns. Right out of one curve into another. We were meeting ourselves going and coming it seemed. I expected it to straighten out soon, but it didn't for the next 62 miles. Needless to say, the little bags were barf bags. If anyone tended to get car sick, they would have on this trip. I have never seen so many sharp curves as this for such a long distance. We are ever climbing up the mountain with these curves on highway 1095. 

There are 100 miles of highway 1095 beetween Chiang Mai and Pai . But the curves, all 762 of them, are squeezed into a 62 mile stretch. The map shows squiggly lines all through the mountain area, indicating sharp hairpin curves. 

I hadn't heard about the road before starting my trip. I didn't know much about this small mountain town before deciding to come to it at all. All I knew was that everyone said backpackers that missed it regretted doing so later. There were no special attractions here that I could find out about. It was just a great place to chill out for a while from I what I could hear. If you've been reading my blog reguarlarly I'm sure you have seen what a stressful life we live.

I had no idea of the terrain we were headed for. It's a beauty of a drive up the mountains. My ears pop as we ascend. Driving this road must be very tiring. The driver blows the horn a little as we round the sharp curves to alert oncoming drivers. We sway from side to side in the van. The seat backs have all been fitted with handles to hold onto . It's still a tiring ride and we each try our best not to get slung into the person next to us. At first, if someone got slung into their neighbor, they would apologize (in their own language of course). After a while we just stopped apologizing. Everyone knew the score by now. Nevertheless, we are all having fun with this outrageous ride. We had no idea this was coming. More importantly, we don't know when it will end. This goes on for two of the last three hours of this trip. Thailand is so full of surprises.

One backpacker told me once to "Always enjoy the journey. That way if the destination does not live up to expectations, you had a good time anyway." This journey would be one to remember.
 
About halfway in our trip, we stopped at a little mountain place that serves food and snacks. The restrooms are outside, on the deck. As I stand at the urinal my shoulders and above are showing - for all the world to see. No, no one could see below that, but it still seems strange for anyone looking to know what you are doing . Then, I see it! The first genuine Thai squat toilet. I don't need to use it, thank goodness, but it is there.

After a 20 minute rest stop we are on our way again. The curves are just as bad, if not worse. The entire trip lasts for 3 hours on a trip that could be driven on an interstate in about one hour.

During the last half hour the minibus begins to descend into a valley, but the curves never stop until about a mile before reaching town.

We arrive in the little mountain town of Pai. I get off the van and point to my map and am pointed in the direction of my hostel.

I walk the small street of this charming little town for about a half mile. There are restaurants and bars and vendors all around. I turn a curve and then the town ends. I have come to a river. There is a bridge. No one said anything about a bridge. I cross the Pai River on a bamboo foot bridge . No vehicles or bicyles allowed, just foot traffic.

The bridge seems fragile under my feet. The flooring is made of bamboo strips. There are spaces in the flooring where your foot could slip through if you're not careful. The flooring gives a little with each step. 

Once across the bridge I have no idea which direction to go. I go a little left and stop at a little food stand and ask for my hostel. The lady indicates I should walk through her stand and go through the field to The Darling Guesthouse. 

It's just a small, narrow little path going through some knee high vegetation. I follow it and again have to decide to go left or right. There is a bamboo house that someone lives in right here, but I don't stop for directions. They are hanging clothes and going about their daily lives. 

I choose to go right and walk through more of the knee high vegetation . 

At the "T" in the road, I stop and look as far both ways as I can see. There are a few houses, mostly bamboo, scattered through the fields and on the mountainside. I choose to go left this time. No reason, it just looks the most promising. 

The houses are few and far between. They are mostly bamboo and grass houses. Some of them are guesthouses. I see a man in a yard. He doesn't understand anything I say but "Darling". It's the name of the guesthouse. He points for me to keep going down the dirt road.

The knee high vegetation (I don't know what is) has given way to rice paddies. I walk the dirt road through rice fields and open land, hoping I am going in the right direction. I ask a few times and am always pointed to keep going. When carrying a loaded backpack, the heat really begins to wear on you after awhile. I ask a lady working in her yard. She indicates the guesthouse in up on the hill, further down the road .

I head in that direction, crossing two small foot bridges and begin the climb up the hill to the buildings. The buildings are scattered all over the hillside. Once I get there, someone shows me where the guesthouse office is and I check in.

I wait a half hour for my room to be ready. Then, a Thai boy, about 14 or so, out of nowhere, grabs my backpack and motions for me to follow him to my home for the next few days. I can hardly keep up with him as he goes up and down the hills in between the buildings. All these buildings belong to the Darling Guesthouse. 

The boy drops my backpack on my bed and smiles and immediately leaves. He doesn't speak English but feels I am happy and his work is done. He is out the door. I stick my head out and call to him. He comes back and I give him a 20 baht tip. He smiles like he just hit the lottery. He gives me a Wai. I don't think he is used to getting tips and is surprised by it .

I think the Wai is the coolest thing, but I always feel a little odd when they do it to me. It's like they think I've done something really special, when really it was such a small thing. Nevertheless, it is their custom and I do like it. It shows graditute, among other things. So, in that sense, is like a "thank you". 

I have never done the Wai. I do not fully understand when to use it, so avoid it for now. The custom is to never wai someone of lower status. I have a hard time seeing anyone lower than anyone else. Someones income or professional position doesn't make anyone better or worse than anyone else in my eyes. But, cultures and societies do classify people.

Here is an explanation of the wai I read:
Instead of shaking hands, Thais “wai” to greet people. The “wai” is a short bow done with hands held fingertips-together close to your chest or face. A proper “wai” is not as easy as you’d think, so practice a little to get the hang of it . Never “wai” someone of lower status – even it sounds like the egalitarian thing to do, you’ll only embarrass the person you’re “wai”ing.

I am assigned to a cottage overlooking the valley. At night I can see the city lights from my deck. There are 4 beds. Each bed is king size. Room enough for me and my backpack. My room is $2.74 per night.

In about 15 minutes the owner, her name is Darling, shows up at my room. She is much more cheerful and chatty than when I met her earlier. In her broken english she wants to welcome me and wants to be sure I have everything I need. She brings a bottle of water to me. She tells me how she started the guesthouse years ago and how hard she has worked at it through the years.

I think the boy I gave the tip to was her son or probably grandson. I think he told her about the tip. Now, I think I am her favorite guests for being kind to the boy. It was only about 50 or 60 cents, but it seems small things mean so much to these people . The rest of my stay she tried every way to make me comfortable. When I left she she was laughing and talking and said I have to come back and stay longer next time. I am kind she says, not like the young people that come through. She is a small woman bubbling with energy. She keeps telling me how nice it was to have me stay. It is hard for me to get away.

As darkness fell on the first night, I headed into town. I crossed the foot bridges in the dark and headed down the dirt road. 

There were no houses much along the dirt road, so no lighting. The only light was from the moon. There was not much of a moon tonight but I could see the outline of the grass along the ditches on each side of the road, surrounded by the rice fields. This helped me stay on the road and out of the ditch. All of a sudden I had gone too far. It was a dead end on the river bank. 

I turned to go back and, not far behind, was another backpacker (from Italy) . He was coming from the same guesthouse and trying to get to town. 

Unsure of the way, he had been following me. Bad idea! He asked me if I knew the way to town. I told him I missed a turn somewhere in the dark. He wanted to come along and we went back and found the little road that we missed the turn on. It was just too dark to spot before.

The little town has a Walking Street. It is not like the Walking Street in Pattaya with all the bars and things. It is a street that is closed to traffic around dark each day. Only pedestrians and motorbikes are allowed (I don't know why motorbikes are allowed, though). 

It makes it pleasant to walk and look at the merchandise, or just sit and eat on the street. There are bars along the way, but they are not the go-go bars like the larger cities have. It was a fun night of eating and browsing. All you need to worry about tonight are the motorbikes coming through and the dogs wandering around . 

I walk along and stop to watch a boy making some sort of drinks. He is dressed in some elaborate outfit. Maybe it has something to do with some Sci-Fi movie or something. Those of you into fantasy movies or computer games might know, but I do not. 

Anyway, he makes some sort of drinks (I have no idea what they are, I don't think its alcoholic, though). It's a crowd-attracting performance to watch him make your drink. When finished, he pours it into a bamboo tube for you to drink from. 

I wish I could have made a video of it. But, too many people watching to get a good view for a video. Watching all the people, locals and foreigners, always adds up to an interesting night. The people that advised me to come here were right, it was a good suggestion.

I see a sign at a restaurant that says "Beff Steax". I am sure they mean "Beef Steaks" . I get so many laughs at the spelling of english words in this country. They just spell it like it sounds I guess. Sometimes a word on a sign will be there twice and spelled different both times. I have seen a sign written in english with the word baht spelled correctly one time and, right below it, it is spelled bath. 

So many examples of misspelling I could give you. In America, the professional sign maker would have to redo the sign if they didn't get it right. But here it doesn't seem to matter much. I read where the KIng of Thailand is an atrocious speller. He was educated in the U.S. (maybe that explains it?). But, if you read his auto-biography, he misspells words all throughout it. I think it's so funny, the words I see on signs here make me laugh and just adds to my Thai experience.

There is so much food to try here. If I were 6' 6" or something, I could really try lots of foods on offer. I do try as much as I can, though . I stop for some mango and sticky rice. I have tried sticky rice in lots of different ways, but never with mangos. Umm, umm, good.

A man painted and dressed stands stone still in the middle of Walking Street. People place tips in the hat at his feet.

Making my way back through the dirt paths and rice fields at dark was fun. Not much moon and I walked off the paths and roads a time or two, but what a night!
  
Sitting on the deck at 8 a.m. the next morning was just a tad cooler than I have been used to. A long sleeve shirt would have felt okay, but the t-shirt was okay too. The temperature here in the mountains was just on the verge. I sit on the deck and work on the blog in the early morning hours, looking out over the valley below.