Pai: Trekking with Mr. O

Nestled in the mountains of Northwest Thailand, Pai is a chilled-out little town that has boomed recently on the backpacker circuit. With internet cafes, coffee shops, reggae bars and plenty of Thai massage, Pai has all the amenities travelers want. And while some denigrate this development for its impact on the authenticity of the town, it is still surrounded by beautiful mountains and fields of rice and garlic. Best of all, it gets cold at night, a welcome change from the warm temperatures of the lowlands.

And no trip to Pai would be complete without a trek around through the hills surrounding town. So it was that we found ourselves with Mr. O (no relation I know of to O, our cooking school instructor) wandering the hillsides on a sunny Pai day.

Our trek started with a motorcycle ride on the back of two bikes. In typical Thailand fashion, we arrived at the booking agent's office and were immediately plunked onto the back of the motorcycles. With a whoosh we headed up the road, grasping two Thai people we had never met. Ahh, adventure.

After a short ride, we arrived at Mr. O's house, set in a small village in the hills. Mr. O is a (stereo) typically Thai man - always smiling, easily excited and quick to laugh. While his English was limited, he more than compensated with pure enthusiasm. More than once during the daylong hike (and by this, I mean almost 8 hours of hiking), Erin jumped back (in fear of a king cobra, I suspect) as Mr. O let out an excited Thai phrase, only to find the object of his excitement was a butterfly. Mr. O loved butterflies, and we saw lots of them as we walked. With each new butterfly, Mr. O would point it out and alert our attention.

While our trek had waypoints (a waterfall, Hmong Chinese village), it was really an ambling around Mr. O's neighborhood. Everywhere we went, he would call out to farmers, people on mopeds, passersby, anyone we crossed paths with. And while it was a bit hard to tell, they all seemed to know Mr. O. Generally we watched as Mr. O laughed and joked with his Thai friends, as they regarded us as the crazy farang paying to walk around the hills (or at least this is what I imagined them saying, although I never heard the word "farang" during the Thai conversations.)

The fields around Pai are filled with garlic and onions. And Mr. O never tired of pointing them out to us, with his special brand of English. "You garlic. You onion." While there was some risk of this constant identification growing tiresome, Mr. O's enthusiasm and joviality made it quite enjoyable. I'd conservatively estimate we saw 100 garlic or onion fields during our walk, and I am pretty sure Mr. O pointed out each one.

And so our day went. We'd walk, stop to look at a garlic field or butterfly, walk some more, and occasionally eat a tropical fruit Mr. O pulled from some plant (papaya, something pickle-like, something really alkaline that I prayed wouldn't cause instant paralysis and a few others). With each plant, Mr. O would tell us "you eat," or "you cook," or "you monkey eat." A couple times I tried my sense of humor with him, asking whether we could eat things he had just told us only monkeys eat, but alas, I am not sure my subtlety and nuance was being conveyed. Even to native English speakers, my humor can be elusive at times.

All in all, we had a lovely day with Mr. O. It felt a bit like we were with a Thai Mr. Rogers, wandering through his neighborhood fields and jungle. And it was a beautiful day in his neighborhood.