destination: unknown

This is going to be the most dangerous excursion so far on my journey - more so than the risk of death from elephant stampede or of food poisoning from street food vendors.

What I am talking about is a visit to Baan Tawai, a village some 25 kilometers from Chiang Mai known for beautiful wood carvings.  Where is the danger in that, you ask?  Since I don't know exactly where the village is or what it looks like, nor do I know quite how to get there, there is a strong chance of my being kidnapped and sold into servitude, based on my charming looks and submissive personality no doubt, to some older, unattractive, overweight bear who collects Victorian antique furniture in Guerneville.  Buddha have mercy.

a song thaew

The simple, less exciting method to reach Baan Tawai is a taxi ride.  The real and only way is to ride the song thaew (pronounced "song tao"), which are modified pickup trucks painted in various colors found roaming in and around Chiang Mai.  Those that stay within the gates of the Old City are painted red.  When one approaches you, you raise your hand, and it stops.  You tell the driver your location, and if it's on his way, you jump on; if not, he drives off and you wait for the next one.  There are no set routes; the trip depends completely on the destinations of all the passengers.  Sounds haphazard, but for 20 Bahts (70 cents), you really can't complain.

The song thaew that I need today is painted yellow; it leaves Chiang Mai and goes on a fixed route, passing Baan Tawai on the way.  Luckily, after walking just a couple of minutes, a yellow song thaew comes toward me.  I stop the driver and give him my destination.  He hesitates for a second then nods his head.  As soon as I get in and the song thaew takes off, I wonder about the hesitation.  Could it possibly be a quick assessment to see if I was good slave material?  Could the old man and woman already in the truck be his pimps?  How about the young mother with her infant child wrapped against her chest?  Are they innocent but unlucky passengers like me, or are they just decoy.  My mind is on high alert.

Soon, the driver stops and picks up more passengers and the back of the pickup is now full, with one man standing in the rear on what appears to be the tailgate, holding on to dear life with just one hand.  One misstep or a jerk in the hand, and it will be sayonara, or sawasdee krap in this case, even before he has a chance to say "oh, crap."

But my mind wanders from the stranger back to myself, as it habitually does in any circumstance:  how am I to know when and where to get off?  I pray that the driver really did understand me and that some other passenger is going to the same place.  No such luck.  Looking around me at all the Thai faces that surround me, there is no way any of them would be going where tourists go.  I notice that some of them are looking at me as well.  I quickly brush one hand against the area between my nose and lips, just in case there is a booger hanging out of my nose that is causing the stare.  No, perfectly clean.  Is it eye-boogers?  I remove my glasses and casually rub my eyes, pretending to be fatigued so as not to cause further attention.  Nothing there either.  Suddenly the passenger next to me taps me on the shoulder.  Is this my end?  Am I next on the chopping block?  Sold into slavery at such a not-so-young age, what will my life become?  I expect the driver has been paid most handsomely for a specimen like me.

I see him at the back of the truck, peering through the two standing men.  "Baan Tawai, mister."  Oh, okay.  I quickly get out of truck, maneuvering carefully so as not to step on the two men.  After handing the driver 20 Bahts, I start the next phase of my journey - walking over three kilometers to the village.  Hey, at least I am a free man who owes taxes and a mortgage.

In the afternoon, after more than three hours of perusing in hundreds of woodcraft stores, I start my journey home.  It's funny how I would do certain things while traveling that I wouldn't normally do - like walking at three in the afternoon under a scorching sun when the temperature is more than 90 degrees.  Let's see, three kilometers in over 30 minutes at 90 degrees - that comes out to be 1.2 freckles and 0.45 moles over a lifetime.  My parasol is in the shop, so I use the village map to block out some of the sun - down to 0.4 moles.

After reaching the main road, it is time to look for a yellow song thaew.  I am hoping that its to and return routes are the same.  It is.  A magical yellow bus comes my way and I eagerly hop on, or I want to eagerly hop on.  The inside is full, and there are already two guys standing in the back.  Without hesitation, I jump on between the two guys and plant my flip flops firm into the metal beneath me.

Unlike the locals, one of whom is a school boy, who only require one hand on the rail, I grab on with two.  Pretty soon, I am flying in the back of the truck with my two fellow daredevil passengers and thinking that I'm pretty cool for doing this.  Some western tourists look my way as the truck passes by; they must be noticing the same thing - my courage in doing what the locals do.  However, as I've been told many times that I look Thai, I wonder how these farangs (foreigner) know that I am not.  Doesn't matter.  I appreciate the envy and admiration in their eyes.

It suddenly occurred to me that such an event must be documented, and it's a good thing I have my Fuji x10 in my backpack, but taking it out and turning it on would require some risky and cumbersome maneuvering on my part, as I will have to let go of one hand from the rail.  I end up letting go of both at one point, with my elbow tucked into the space between the truck and the rail while I operate the camera standing on the tailgate of a pickup truck going at 30-40 mph.

Before I know it, the ride is over.  I see Chiang Mai gate once again before me, and I jump off from the platform to Baan Tawai, to servitude, and to broken bones and ego. 

Some destinations are worth reaching.  Others?  Happy Valentine's Day to me and all you single people.  What is my destination on that journey?