Pure Life

​This is truly the first day I’ve fully settled in, given in to it. No scooter today, writing, yoga and reading all day on the covered rooftop patio laced with wisteria, birds all a-twitter, the early coo of mourning doves having given way.

I hear the hot springs call, but first, today. Home alone. The one other guest left, the owner off for the day, giving me a key to the sliding iron gate, wanting to keep it locked for a reason I can’t entirely discern. A discomfort, perhaps the guy that just departed. In any case, I’m truly alone, all by my lonesome in this Garden of Eden.

I’ll walk later, perhaps to Pai Fon again, for the Pad Thai to die for.  Maybe stir-fried veggies too this time. I love the walk through the mango grove, past the languid milk cows.

Though I could do w/o the barking dogs. There are street dogs everywhere in Thailand, entirely low-key, minding their own business. Then an on-guard, barking dog (or 2 or 3), though not about to bite. (I determine after the fact.)

Pai Fon is rickety-feeling, the only beverage water. The mom and dad, shyly behind the scene, their cute and gracious 20-something daughter out front with a warm smile that assures comfort.

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So, it’s interesting when you truly take a day of pure leisure. You realize it’s something you never (rarely) do. That’s what calls me to the monastery retreat at Wat Tam Pa Wua. Going deeper with great curiosity and calling. It’s also a brave act, anticipatory, trepidation. Meditating on non-self. 

Loneliness takes some getting used to before it becomes a gift, a skill. I’m not ready for it all the time; social interaction is rich for me. It’s all in the balance. (I’ve been telling myself all my life.)

Further on a back road is Tribe, a hip coffee shop; they roast their own beans. Two fellows in logo-black shirts. You can tell they know their thing. From what I’ve seen, coffee, matcha and cacao are very big throughout Thailand, and they’re very good at it. I’ve moved on from cappuccino and latte to “pour-overs” with milk. 

The hot springs and caves are an hour away on foot, in opposite directions. Which is why I may rent a scooter. I’m somewhat nervous about this. I’ve watched a couple of YouTubes “for beginners,” and I’ve been on two wheels a lot in life: a 125cc motorcycle in my teens, bicycles, a one-wheel Segway along the Sarasota bay front. Going to make sure I have a good helmet, long pants, and a low-traffic paved neighborhood road where I live. Some concern.

So my place here, Three Little Birds, is a sweet retreat, a compound owned by Mod, a single woman, mid-40s, and escaped from Bangkok, she says. To this idyll. “Two solo rooms and two double rooms,” she says, though currently I’m the only guest. It’s so lovely: surrounded by nature, birds singing in shade trees, looking out on mango and banana groves and the Chiang Dao mountain, the 3rd tallest in Thailand. The occasional sound of a motorbike or a car in the distance, but good vibes and peaceful all-in-all. 

Outside my door, a courtyard and step stones leading to a well-equipped, shared open-air kitchen, dining room with tables and chairs, and a wall of bookshelves. A healthy selection in English from Thich Nhat Hanh to travel guides and novels. Outside, another covered area with two tables and chairs, plus the two rattan chairs on the porch outside my room. There are many places to roost.

But my fav, and where I am now, is the rooftop covered porch laid out with bamboo mats, low tables and cushions, railings dripping in Wisteria. Turning my head to the right, I see the mountain; before me, the expanse of mango trees teasing spring bloom.

Coming back from the bus station yesterday, I saw the mountain for the first time, and gasped. Mod smiled and said, “Yes, this is why I moved here, to be in nature, where I want to be.”

At first, I didn’t notice that for my $33.44 a night, Mod prepares a hearty breakfast, all labeled and kept in the fridge.

For me, it’s actually breakfast and lunch. As my friend, Jen, remarked, “That’s so sweet.” Indeed.

So, despite the many troubles in the world, of which I’m all too well aware, the simple life, this simple life, feels full and about perfect. 

Though I am looking forward to disconnecting with the news and connecting with self/non-self when I make my way to Wat Tam Pa Wua for a multi-day retreat.  

It’s a balancing act. My balancing act. To each their own. For me, the fruit of my mother‘s curiosity, my father‘s discernment and reserve, his wilderness. The call of intrigue, knowing self opens to pivotal moments that last a lifetime. 

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It is and will continue to be interesting to see the effect of being here on the other side the world. Buffeted by the culture, a different way of seeing the world, the sweet social graces: the bow, removing your shoes at the door. 

I expect it will soon overtake me, softly and subtly. Like the way I slip into the accent in whatever place I’m in, flavoring the sound of my English spoken words. As if by osmosis, penetrating my being over time.

I am vulnerable when I travel. Curiosity has that element. I’m ok with the whiplash experiences, but seek the cool and calm. As in nature: the sounds and the air. The mountains and water falls and springs. The fields and flowers and starry nights that most bring me most comfort.  

My days are full, my dreams super-charged by the wonder and common life of it all.