Meander Asia

​There’s a fair amount of backtracking to do since I haven’t posted in several days. Returning from my weeklong retreat at Wat Pa Tam Wua , all centered and blissful, the harrowing and memorable yellow truck ride back to Pai. And discovering more of Pai, my tucked-away Airbnb there, the lovely hubbub of the Night Market teasing back my absence from the world into the richness and seduction of Thai street food, and cultural and colorful eye-candy. Everyplace I’ve been so far, I could have stayed longer. And yet it was time to move on, easy to let go, onwards towards the enticement of  Chiang Rai. Chiang Rai was a surprise in many ways. I had been told it was worth a day-trip to see the White Temple (above) which is truly a show-stopper, a recent creation by Thai architect/artist Chalermchai Kositpipat. Truly captivating (alas very popular), but as I explored the city further I discovered so much more, and stayed for four days. Chiang Rai is the gateway to the northern villages of s...

​I don’t recall whether I mentioned switching beds from a tent (1 night), personal Kuti (3 nights), then 3-man dorm for 3 nights. I think it may have been a test - ☺️. First day after my first night in the Kuti, I was told I was on 5am kitchen duty. I recall mentioning this; I quite enjoyed the camaraderie and reminiscences brought to bear.  On the 2nd day, I noticed the knives. The last items to chop were tomatoes, and we all noticed the knives were really dull. I long ago learned that a dull knife is a dangerous knife. I demonstrated to the cook, asking about a sharpener. He went to find it so he could show me it was broken. He then showed me a stone and, of course, I was carrying machine oil… But I never got back to it. Just before departing, I came up with a scheme to locate a proper sharpener in Pai, and take it to the yellow truck that was heading up to the monastery that morning, and ask them to deliver it for me. There will be two ladies who will greet you. Give it to the s...

​Philip (20-something) / East Germany Biking through Germany, Bosnia, Kosovo, Oman, UAE and Iran. Hitchhiking in Iran, the easiest, poorest, most friendly. Oman and UAE? Not so much. But having to leave Iran rather suddenly (the protests and killings - when every Westerner became a suspected spy), he had to leave his trusty bike behind, too. But he met a Dutch fellow who took the bike to the middle-east (where safe to do so). He’d bring it back to Europe with him, and they’d figure out a time and place to meet up. The road is full of these tales of sweet serendipities; a confirmation of when you let go into the unknown, support and magic begin to happen. Or so I’ve come to know. I met Philip while awaiting the yellow truck to take us back to Pai. The monastery abbot had a ritual of personally saying goodbye. He'd tell stories about his encounters with a King Cobra and a Tiger (that we’d heard several times before). Such a jolly happy soul! Except he didn’t see us as having soul...

​ In a previous blog , I mentioned the multi-colored, 10-seat trucks that ply the outskirts of towns, at least in Chiang Mai and Pai. It’s the yellow bus that takes one to the monastery and back. There’re only two a day. It  pulls up, and notably, seems pretty full already with 6 Thai men and women and two drivers. We are 9. And did I mention the two 50# bags of rice?  (Actually, one made a pretty good seat on the back bumper; according to a monastery friend from the Canary Islands, it was “a rather comfy seat.” But I’m getting ahead of myself…) So, there are 17 of us. Suffice to say, yours truly was sitting on the floor, facing out the back, two feet planted very firmly on the back bumper, holding onto the 5” wide metal ladders on either side that climb to the roof.  Two other brave 20-something men, fellow monasterians, one from Germany, who had been in Iran when the protests broke out and had to flee because all Westerners were suspected of being spies, and the other f...

My 3rd day waking up at Wat Pa Tam Wua , the Buddhist monastery where I’m on retreat from the troubles in the world. Not unaware, but focused on meditation, spending time in high realms along with 100+ monks and seekers from around the world. And yet there’s a palpable oneness that fills the time and space. I feel privileged to have been upgraded to my private kuti (cottage), as the first night in a tent was cold and bright with night lights, and a snoring neighbor next tent over. Now a kuti with private bathroom and front porch with a writing table and chair overlooking the rose and vegetable garden, which I’ve taken under my wings, weeding and watering, paying kind attention.  And the mountains and cove, obscured by mist in the morning showing off their spectacular selves by noon. I wasn’t told til later that the kuti folks were due for kitchen duty at 5am. And so there I was, chopping vegetables, carrying water, channeling my 21-year-old self at our Indian Summer vegetarian rest...

It’s truly been a leisurely pace, nice. And yet so much has happened! I know I’ll never be the same again - 😉 I could write a marathon, like my friend Careth, who ran 100 miles in Chiang Mai on the heels of winning another race in Europe. Such fleet of foot! I want  to pay homage to my day-trip adventures, courtesy of my host, Amy. Over the holidays, she reserved a red truck, capacity 10-ish, with a new smorgasbord of sites and adventures every day. I did three days in a row!  I’d just arrived, and figured what better way.  Lookouts and gardens and waterfalls and hot springs and villages.  And, just like that: 20 new friends! Acquaintances in the know, in any case. An infinite field of red flowers, two (keyless) white grand pianos placed loudly in the middle. A call to the Keith Jarrett in us. Or Chopin. My  grandmother. Perhaps the floating trees were the highlight. So serene, still, and otherworldly.

This is how long I will have been in Thailand when I wake up in the morning tomorrow. I’m on my way in a yellow truck to Wat Pa Tam Wua , a Buddhist monastery, for a silent meditation retreat for several days; the several , not yet determined. “We’ll see,” says Richard. ‘Whoever that might be.’ I know Pai has much to be discovered, much like anyplace, but I’ve yet to make it my own. Perhaps this afternoon, at the “mystic man” gathering at Mystic Village . As likely,  an herbal compression massage at Gaifa at the hands of Gaifa herself, the owner.  Yesterday she recognized my interest and showed me the bark and herbs in the tea served following my massage. We got talking, best we could, and she wanted me to see her small garden out front. We looked at each one, naming them, and she gave her advice regarding their healing properties. Clearly it’s a bit of a treat -- two massages in a row -- but however can I pass up her offer?  Then dinner shopping on The Walking Street, w...

The Good: Pai’s scenery is defined by openness. During the green season, Pai’s rice fields spread across the valley floor like a vast quilt of emerald tones; many call them the most beautiful rice fields in all of Thailand. The Bad: But it doesn’t take long before you start to hear of the unbearable air pollution when farmers burn their rice, maize and sugarcane fields. The peak seems to be March, which is why I’ll be heading south and out of harm’s way by then. The online Chiang Mai expat groups are all abuzz about this. Great debates and advice about heading south, often to the beaches, or to stay put, HEPA filters, keeping windows closed, staying inside. Obviously, many Thai people don’t have much choice. The solutions seem evasive. Clearly, they are underfunded. “Lower respiratory tract infections are the third highest cause of death in Thailand, which increased by 77.1% in the ten years between 2009 and 2019.” An article titled Poverty and Pollution in Northern Thailand states: ...