Though we had to endure a long, gut-wrenching bus ride to get there, Pai was a nice place to relax after our wild time in Chiang Mai. With a local population of only two thousand, it’s a quiet place where you can quickly get your bearings. Unfortunately, Ellsa got hit with some sort of stomach bug while we were here, so she didn’t get to see much of the nature surrounding the village. On the bright side, the place we stayed was an excellent one for her to spend a day relaxing in. We stayed at Pai Country Huts, and our cozy little hut was a highlight for both us.
Pai’s dirt roads often turn to mud in the rainy season (which is now), so the small town’s architecture features a number of houses and huts built on stilts (to be fair, this is common in Thailand, but not in the cities, where we have spent most of our time so far). Building materials include stone, brick, and wood, but the most popular appears to be bamboo and palm leaves, which is what our temporary home was made of. The bamboo provides a strong (though very squeaky) frame and floor, while the expertly woven palm leaves form the walls and roof, creating an airy and comfortable one-room hut. Ours was complete with a front porch and hammock, as well as a private washroom in the back. It was our personal paradise for two nights.
Ellsa says that she felt like a princess in the large mosquito-netted bed, while my favourite spot was the hammock. I spent the first night in it, partly because I wanted to avoid catching Ellsa’s illness, but partly because I liked the idea that I could sleep outside and not freeze to death! It was such a peaceful place, and I soaked in the atmosphere, looking up at the stars and listening to the crickets. The humidity in the air provided a natural blanket of warmth, and I drifted off to sleep counting my blessings. The morning dew brought a surprising chill, and around 5 am I ended up joining Ellsa in her princess bed after all, but I still fully enjoyed that night.
We were greeted in the morning by a number of enthusiastic roosters from neighbouring farms. I made my way across the river (by bamboo bridge, of course) to meet up with my tour group for the day. We were eight in all, coming from India, Israel, France, China, and Canada. Everyone spoke at least some English, so we were all able to converse with one another, which was especially good because our Thai guides were not especially talkative; they simply took us from place to place and gave us a time at which to come back to the truck. We saw some pretty fascinating places though. They took us through a series of bat-filled 
caves by combination of foot and bamboo raft, and waited while we soaked in the mildly warm natural “hot” springs in the middle of the jungle. The best part of the the tour, however, was the waterfall.
I think it’s called Pam Bok Waterfall, but I am not entirely sure. Here’s what I do know: somewhere in the jungle surrounding Pai, there is a waterfall unlike any I have seen before. What made it unique was that the huge volume of moving water did not fall straight down, but followed a slope, sliding down over what seemed to be an impossibly large boulder. The result? An excellent natural waterslide! When we arrived at the falls, it was raining buckets. Half of my tour group was deterred by the rain, and the other half, by the slight risk involved… but I was not about to pass up the opportunity to literally slide down a waterfall! I took my time climbing up the slippery boulders alongside the falls, taking care to ensure I found footholds with a decent amount of grip. Next, I waited and watched. I wasn’t going to try this stunt until I saw that it was safe. I didn’t have to wait long, though, as soon enough, four young Chinese men made their way to the very top and took the plunge, and all four emerged from the pool below with big smiles and thumbs up. If they could do it, so could I.
The water was icy cold – refreshing, but quite a surprise, since every other body of water we’d been to in the country had been like bathwater. I hesitated at the very top, the loud sound of the rushing water overpowering my senses. However, when I looked up, I saw that the young Chinese men were now watching ME – and cheering me on. Their little show of support was all I needed, and I went for it, immediately glad I did. What an adrenaline rush! My only regret is not having time to go again.