Our hostel was called Mojito Garden 2 (Is there a Mojito Garden 1? Probably not.). We found it online and it was the first hostel I've ever stayed in. The grounds were charming. Whimsical, I would say. The small bungalows that dotted the open-garden grounds were painted bright greens, blues, pinks and yellows. The aroma of fresh flowers and pad thai hit us when we crossed the entrance gate.
The staff at this small establishment went above and beyond. Especially a young guy who went by the name of Bam. Is that right, Haneefa? Boom? Something like that. Bada-Bing? My mind forgets, but he provided us with directions to walk, once we unloaded our luggage in our small room. We spent the afternoon walking about Chiang Mai, where we stumbled down an alley that opened up to beautiful grounds with a handful of temples. Luckily, I had also brought my Nikon with me and spent a good amount of time happily snapping away.
We found a place to have lunch - we were both starving and the place was filled with locals (always a good sign). I had no idea what most of the menu was (my Thai is minimal), so I closed my eyes and pointed at something. I didn't love what came to the table (like a oatmealy soup with noodles), but I did not hate my purple butterfly tea, which tasted like a snow cone!
Emerging from lunch, we saw a monstrous gold Buddha head protruding from behind a building and walked to what felt like a Buddhist monastery. This sign was posted outside of the monastery, along with one, ironically, that said, "Be caught red-handed."
Once back at Mojito, we took a nap, booked a two-day adventure excursion (more to come on this in the next post), and our bus trip into our second country: Laos. The evening held a tuk-tuk ride to the night market where we shopped, ate while watching traditional Thai dancers and break-dancers a few feet from each other.
We dipped our feet into a fish tank for ... a skin treatment? Is that would you would call those fish spa places? Where the tiny minnows nibble at your dead skin. Felt like someone was snapping rubber bands up and down my legs and feet. Or like my legs had fallen asleep and were tingling. Had a hard time keeping my feet submerged at first. But my feet were baby smooth when our 20 minutes were up.
The next morning, Dec. 20, we were picked up at Mojito at 9:30 by the company of the adventure package we signed up for. We were in for some elephant riding, hiking, an overnight stay with a hill tribe, and whitewater and bamboo rafting. This would be the last time my lip would be its normal size for the rest of the trip.
Our ride, which was a open-backed truck with benches, stopped by three other hostels to pick up a female cancer researcher from Ireland, a male sports journalist from the Netherlands and a chef and his girlfriend from Denmark. Again, I was pleasantly surprised to be the only American in the group. We drove 90 minutes to northern Chiang Mai, stopping to make copies of our passports, visit a butterfly/orchid farm and a local market to buy 'supplies' for our night with the Lahu Hill Tribe. Did our driver say supplies?? Uh oh. What were we getting into? We bought bottled water, a flashlight, long wool socks and MITTENS, as per our driver's suggestions.
We made our first stop for elephant riding as we continued north. As we climbed the ladder to the platform to board our elephant, we saw a couple from France fall from their seat as they tried to situate themselves. "Uh, can someone tighten the seat on this elephant, please?" This was my second time riding on an elephant in two months - whose life am I living? After we rode we had lunch provided for us, tofu, rice and veggies, and continued to the base of the mountain we would be hiking to reach our evening destination.
We trekked upward for more than three hours with our guide, Mike. OMG. It was so hot! We finally reached the top, astounding views and the Lahu Hill Tribe's village around 4 p.m. We were led to a bamboo hut that was balanced on poles 10 feet off the ground. The bamboo hut had a open deck area, a roofed room with the front facing the open deck, a small room to the left and a larger room off to the right closed off by a door. This was our sleeping quarters. The 'beds' were thin mattresses laid on the wood floor, draped in colourful mosquito netting. I was excited for the adventure I knew this evening would be. If you asked me the next morning, my sore back, frozen feet and sleep-deprived eyes would have spoke with a different emotion.
That night dinner was provided for us on a large rug in the roofed room facing the deck by candle light. A plethora of village children visited our home and serenaded us with songs. We slipped into blankets and huddled around a camp fire on our deck under a covering of stars so brilliant. I laid back next to the fire, leaving my thoughts to wander from star to star.
The next morning seemed to take forever to arrive. I'm not sure Haneefa or I slept much. Not for lack of trying. We woke at 8:30 to a breakfast of egg scrambles with veggies, toast and jam, pineapple and tea. We prepared ourselves for the trek down the other side of the mountain with our new non-English speaking guide. Going down was much easier and quicker, but I could feel some strain on my left knee as the terrain was vertical and rocky at best.
I stopped several times along the way to admire the beauty of the jungle I was hiking through and think of my grandfather's memorial service that was happening on the other side of the world.
Our group saw two waterfalls and finally made it to the river where we'd be rafting. We were all instructed to leave our backpacks, passports, cameras, phones (oh that's right, I didn't have one!), shoes and sunglasses in the bed of a random truck and make our way down to the bank. I hoped this wouldn't be the last time I saw my camera and my passport.
I mentioned a fat lip earlier. This is where that happens. We were helmeted and instructed on how to paddle and shout commands by a guide before getting into the raft. He seemed to know what we was doing, my heart started pumping with anticipation. The water started out calm. We practiced following our guide's commands. We paddled. We basked under the sun. We laughed. We passed a rough patch of water successfully. I felt like a pro.
Then, we entered a fast-flowing, extra choppy section of the river. Our guide lost control of our raft and although we tried to right our path, paddles flew (a metal one jammed into my lip, making me instinctively check to see if I had lost a tooth), and our boat rammed against a boulder tipping sideways and filling rapidly with water. I was on the side of the raft that was bouyed against the rock, Haneefa was on the side opposite me that was sinking underwater. She looked slightly panicked, which rose my alarm. I reached out to her to pull her toward me, trying to not think about what would happen if our guide couldn't remedy this situation. Scariest moment of my life as of late. We were able to finally right our raft and maneuver out of the chop. I tasted blood and remembered the paddle smashing into my mouth. I felt my teeth again, sure that one of them would be loose. Thankfully none were, but my lip was quickly inflating to the size of the raft I was sitting in.
Next, was bamboo rafting. This looked much calmer and we stood as we paddled down the river to our lunch spot. Trying to eat noodles, tofu, veggies and drink a Coke Light became increasingly difficult as my lip continued to swell. We boarded the van back into Chiang Mai, returning to Mojito at 5 p.m. where we slept until 9. I called my parents to hear about my grandfather's memorial, showered in the communal shower and tried to get to the Saturday night market, only to find it shutting it down by the time we arrived. We got some tom yum soup and spring rolls and took a tuk-tuk back to the Garden where I iced my lip until I fell asleep. Which was immediately.
We woke at noon on Dec. 22, walked to get a Thai tea with milk on ice and had a breakfast of eggs, toast and potatoes in the Mojito Garden restaurant. We booked the next three nights of hotels in Laos (each one in a different city) and our flight from the last city in Laos into Han Noi, Vietnam. We read and relaxed under a bamboo canopy in the garden until our overnight bus to Laos picked us up at 6.
This bus ride. Good grief. See next post.
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