Ahh, Bliss!

I don’t know how it could get any better than this!

I woke up this morning around 9:00 to a phone call from Burmese friend Tun Ein, who scolded me for still being in bed. His prompting got me up and to the guesthouse’s restaurant bungalow for a hot Lipton. The staff sliced me a huge plate-load of mangos, which came from the tree next to my bungalow.

As I sipped my tea and delighted in my fruit breakfast, I gave Tun Ein what he demanded: his first Mandarin Chinese lesson—numbers and greetings. Shortly thereafter, Thai friend Chai called to check in. Then I sunk into a comfy reclining position, with a second story view of the river, opened a book and read!

At noon, I picked up a scooter for another day’s expedition. (The guesthouse staff gave me great advice for a circuit.) I followed the same stretch south as on Thursday, this time passing the hot springs and connecting to the highway. It looped me north again, and I pulled off at Pai Canyon. After a brief hike and scan of the area, I mounted my motorbike again to continue on to Mo Paeng Waterfall.

The scenery along the way was great. And there were restaurants scattered along the road that looked inviting. I’ll come back here tomorrow, I thought to myself.

I turned off the highway again, and headed into the hills. Curiosity inspired me to follow signs for a “Fishing Park” posted along the same road as led to the falls. I should nearly be there…, I thought each time I saw another arrowed sign that promised smiling, gilled-friends.

By the time I finally arrived, I was relieved that I hadn’t been on foot or bicycle when curiosity first struck. The “Fishing Park” looked pleasant and relaxing; prices weren’t bad; and the "farang" (Thai word for “Westerner”) fishing had the catch to show for his efforts.

I’ll be back tomorrow, I announced.

Continuing on to the falls, I passed through a Lisu hill-tribe village. Farmers were burning old fields and raking at the ground with long-long, skinny, bamboo hoes. The land looked dark and fertile.

When I reached Mo Paeng Waterfall, I ate my sweet bun from 7-Eleven, dipped my feet, and consulted my map. The waterfall looked like any in Colorado’s mountains, except that it was surrounded by tropical jungle rather than pine forest.

On the retreat downhill, I turned into Santichon, a Chinese hill-tribe village. The ethnic-Chinese people here come from Yunnan province, in southern China. I spent about 30 minutes at a tea shop, sipping Oolong cha, nibbling on dried fruit, and chatting in Mandarin with a woman in her fifties and a twelve-year-old boy. I’d have imagined that their Chinese would be some dialect incomprehensible to me, but they spoke clear Putonghua… and Thai, and the boy spoke a little English.

En route towards home, I decided, It’d be nice to go back there tomorrow too…

Before sunset, I dropped my day gear off at my bungalow. Then I cruised a stretch of road going northward, looping back down to town on the other side of Pai River. For dinner I devoured a coconut curry.

Ah, BLISS!