My Pai. Once it was Paris…

​I explored Pai downtown today. Checked out the action; one of my favorite things to do. 

I remember Paris, up early, out on my own, my morning foray. Shopkeepers sweeping sidewalks, baguettes fresh from the oven, airy promises of old memories, folklore, the staff of life.

My newspaper route, a boy on his bike, is probably the first indelible imprint of the early morning when the whole world and the smell of ink on paper is all yours. 

Today, Pai. I love casing a new place, making her mine, giving suggestions and directions to tourists days after arriving.

Pai is the easiest, most laid-back scene yet. Perhaps over-dominated by the 20-something Westerner crowd, getting high, exploring the wild oats. Its reputation as hipster-town of yore rings true. I explore the night market for dinner, to watch.

Then to the edge where I’m always headed. A close-by neighborhood of co-work spaces, vegan restaurants and yoga. (Quieter. Older. Fewer hormones, less angst.) Parting heavenly massage from Gaifa: “Deep Tissue Thai”-style, late lunch at Free Bird, watching kids play in the park.

My Pai.

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