Life of Pai

Pai is a little haven in the corner of Thailand where like minded people gather together to hang out and love life. Tourists, ex-pats, and Thais alike fill the vegan restaurants, local markets, tea shops, massage parlors, and yoga studios along “walking street”, sipping their kombucha and wheatgrass, and generally taking it as easy as humanly possible. Nobody is ever in a hurry here. In fact, of all the places I've been, the pace of life in Pai is the slowest...by a long shot.

 

There is a particular saying here which people use frequently and which visitors quickly adapt as their own: “sabai-sabai”. Literally translated it means “happy-happy” or “relax-relax”, but in application something along the lines of “it's all good” would be more accurate. These two little words are used in all different contexts and often by themselves to convey a general sense of easygoingness and leisure. And things in Pai are (most often—if not ubiquitously) “sabai-sabai”. It's entirely accepted and expected for people to run late, to roll out of bed at noon, or to hang in a coffee shop all day watching the world go by. Everyone is at best, blissfully happy, and at the very least, content. It would seem that the worst thing to happen to people in Pai is that the keg goes dry or the ice cream parlor runs out of their favorite flavor.

Pai is a place where progressives, vegetarians, travelers, foodies, musicians, and artists alike flock—a utopia of sorts where everyone is accepted, everyone gets along, and most find it difficult to leave. The small size of the town means running into people you've already met is inevitable and friends are made quickly.

Unlike most of the residents and visitors here, who have come to Pai deliberately to relax and take things easy, we ended up here by chance. The arrangements we had made to volunteer with Khom Loy—a Montessori organization based in Chiang Rai—were altered due to their school vacations and a reduction in the work load they had for us. Not having enough to keep us busy, they contacted the Banyan Center, Pai's one and only Montessori school, to see if they could use our help. Although it was an unexpected change, we're thrilled to have landed in this quirky little town.

During our time here, we'll be doing an array of different things—a mish-mash of projects, if you will—to fill our time and help out where needed. We'll be making materials, weeding the garden, helping to build a new play structure, and leading a “summer camp” program. I'll also be spending time working with the teachers, expanding their knowledge of the materials and their understanding of the Montessori method. The children will be mostly on summer break while we're here, but we managed to catch their last week of school and were able to spend some time with Beth, her Thai co-teacher Noy, and the children in classroom, observing and offering guidance and support. 

Painting

Loving her metal inset lesson!

Carefully pouring- Land and Water Forms

Whoops! Clean up time

Enjoying lunch outside

Learning the Thai alphabet

Binomial cube

Neither Beth nor Noy hold any official Montessori certification, but both have received the short training offered by the Khom Loy Foundation, and both are eager to learn more about the method and improve their classroom.

In our free time, we've been exploring the town and enjoying the local music scene. For whatever reason, Pai seems to draw in a disproportionately large number of extremely talented musicians, and Sean has been enjoying playing with new people at various events around town. Every Sunday, Edible Jazz finds its hammocks full and its floor cushions crammed with music enthusiasts tapping and swaying to the sounds of what I'm convinced is the best 'open mic night' in existence. 

Musicians of all ages and from all corners of the globe meet and jam together, sharing their unusual instruments and communicating in the one common language of their diverse backgrounds. Music of all sorts fills the space, and draws the ever-expanding crowd in from the street. New friends weave together sensational melodies, the kind that leave everyone stunned when they learn the group only just met on stage. 

Some share self-written songs of travel and adventure, while others sing those that everyone knows (no matter where they grew up). A nine-year-old beat-boxes while his sister sings lead and Mom backs her up. The whole crowd cheers. Everyone is welcomed on stage and every act seems even better than the last.

Every evening, people gather around buskers playing along 'walking street' and signs reading “Live Music” line the sidewalks. Though it would be impossible for us to catch them all, there's never any shortage of sweet sounds in this town. So far, we've just been enjoying the people, the laid-back vibe, and catching/playing all the music we can. Looks like life in Pai will suit us just fine for now.

Scootin' Around

We've spent an unusual amount of time this trip riding on the backs of motorbikes. In many places, two wheels and a small motor is the most efficient way to get around, and we've enjoyed taking advantage of this speedy method of transport in several of the places we've visited recently.

In Tanzania, I rode a "piki-piki" just about every day in order to get out to the school where I was working. I loved this part of my days—cruising down the dusty roads, past the tiny villages and the farmers tending their crops, the breeze in my face and the bright blue sky overhead. Gazing at the scenery and enjoying all of the new sights, this was easily one of my favorite things about our time in Africa.

Here in Asia, too, a scooter or motorcycle is often the best way to get from place to place, and certainly the best way to see a lot in a small chunk of time. When we were in Malaysia, we made the excellent decision to rent a scooter for a day, and explore the island of Penang. It was one of the best days we've had on our trip so far. We picked up a scooter for a mere 30MR for the day (about $10) plus a negligible deposit and the small amount of gas we used. Map app in hand (I can't even begin to describe the extent to which modern technology has aided us on this trip!), and another blogger's tips in our heads, we set off. With Sean at the wheel and me clinging on the back, we quickly began to feel comfortable as we headed south, through the whizzing traffic and away from the city. The island of Penang is relatively small. With a circumference of only 70 kilometers, and basically one road going all the way around, it's an ideal locale for a day trip.

As we rounded the south end of the island, we found a nice little trail that lead up to a viewpoint overlooking a peninsula and the Malacca Straight, which divides peninsular Malaysia from Sumatra. On our way up the incredibly steep road, we ran into a group of peacocks stretching out and fluffing their feathers in the sun.

At the top, there was a forgotten-looking restaurant where we stopped for a drink and to enjoy the quirky garden area. These sorts of off-beat places are pretty common here, and seem to be catered mostly towards Asian tourists who appear to enjoy them thoroughly. We, on the other hand, aren't exactly sure what to make of them besides funny photos, but then again, perhaps that is the point.

As we continued around the island, we pulled over now and then to check out a beach or small fishing village, if for no other reason than that we could. We loved having the freedom to take our time, to pull off whenever and wherever we liked. We stopped only briefly most of the time, finding the people to be occupied with their daily business and the places without much for tourists to do. All the same, we enjoyed getting a peak into the lives of the people on the island, and taking in the scenery at our own pace.

Our favorite find of the day was a place called “The Nutmeg Factory.” Having learned about another traveler's visit there, we kept an eye out as we drove. After going through the area where we expected to find it, and convinced that we must have passed it, we stopped to turn back to have another look. Sure enough, as we made our U-turn, we spotted it, not fifty feet from where we'd pulled over (how on earth had we missed it?).

We were greeted by an incredibly friendly woman who showed us around their little shop and offered us samples of all of the nutmeg products they make. We purchased a few of our favorites. 

As it was getting towards lunch time, we inquired about the restaurant next door. She informed us that the small restaurant served by pre-arrangement only... but then she did the nicest thing: she went and asked the kitchen staff if they might have anything for us. They had just prepared an extensive lunch for a large family who had been 'in-the-know' and who had made arrangements ahead of time to come. The owner-chefs said they had plenty of extra, and invited us to sit. They offered us no menus, but instead promptly brought out dish after dish of delicious traditional Malaysian food. Relishing in our unexpected and special meal, we eventually had to ask them to please not bring any more—we were stuffed!

When we'd finished our lunch and thanked our gracious hosts, we headed back over to the factory. The woman who'd welcomed us offered us an in-depth explanation of the nutmeg fruit and what they use the various parts for. She then insisted on giving us free re-fills of the home-made nutmeg drinks we'd bought before sending us on our way. We were thrilled that we managed to find the place, and couldn't thank her enough for the kindness she showed us.

We continued on past fruit stands and waterfalls, weaving through switchbacks and climbing the steep green mountains. We stopped for a while at a small beach in the afternoon and even managed to visit the extremely opulent Kek Lok Si temple as the sun went down before finishing our loop and returning the scooter. 

We were amazed by how much of the island we saw and experienced this way, and could hardly believe we hadn't tried this approach long before. We agreed there was no beating a scooter in terms of getting around, and vowed to make more explorations of SE Asia this way.

Last week, while visiting Lake Toba, we thought we'd have another go at a scooter rental. Toba is the largest volcanic lake in the world, and is also the sight of the largest known explosive eruption on Earth in the last twenty-five million years. This eruption—which took place around 70,000 years ago—created the extraordinary caldera that exists there today, and also may have been responsible for both a global temperature drop and the population bottleneck which occurred in Asia around that time. Classified as both a lake and a “supervolcano”, Toba covers a whopping 1,130 square kilometers (about 436 square miles) and is 505 meters deep. Like all of Indonesia, the area is still volcanically active, with the most recent (small) eruption at Toba occurring in 1987. The most notable feature of the lake is the large island in the middle which has slowly formed post-eruption and continues to uplift due to the magma underneath it. Being that Sumatra itself is surrounded by ocean, Samosir, as it's called, is an island within and island.

When we arrived on Samosir Island, we knew immediately that renting another scooter would be the perfect way to explore our new surroundings. We came across numerous places offering scooters for rent, all for the bargain price of 8,000 Indonesian Rupiahs (about $8) including gas. Done and done.

This time we set out in search of a place where we'd been told a group of locals performs a traditional Batak dance each day. Knowing only the general area to look in, and having forgotten to ask more details, we had a bit of trouble finding the place. After turning back several times to look, and all but giving up, we eventually found it when we came across a road marked by a large sign that read “Traditional Batak Dance---->” (Guess we didn't need those details after all).

We arrived just in time to hear the music starting and were handed an information sheet as we entered through the stone archway. As we settled in next to the small crowd, we were shocked to read on our handout that one of the dances they were to perform involved slaughtering and distributing the meat of a buffalo, one of which happened to be tied to a tree in the center of the area and surrounded by dancing Bataks...

We watched respectfully (wondering what we'd gotten ourselves into) and hoped only that the 'buffalo-slaughtering' portion of the dance wouldn't end up being the same part as the 'audience participation' portion that was also mentioned on our sheet.

Sure enough, after about twenty minutes, the 'magician'—who was leading the dance—approached the crowd, offering us each a sash similar to those the dancers we wearing and waving us onto the “stage”. As we faced the Batak dancers, he led us in some basic rhythmic movements mostly involving hand gestures and a slight bouncing of the knees. He then told us to follow him and began making a large, slow circle around the buffalo. After the first complete circle, we began a second, this time exchanging a series of chants of the word “Horas!” (a traditional Batak greeting and well-wishing) with the line of dancers as we passed them. We then formed a line, and then dancers did the same, offering us each an enthusiastic “Horas!” as they made their loop. And then the dance was over. The magician collected our sashes, and thanked us for coming. The lucky buffalo was untied and led to a shady patch of grass behind one of the houses. We both breathed a sigh of relief before gathering our things and venturing into the nearby Batak museum. As it turned out, the Bataks were just as respectful of us (and of our western desires to be entirely removed from the killing of our livestock) as they seem to be of everyone they come in contact with.

We set off again from the dance and headed for our next destination: a natural hot springs on the other side of the island. After stopping briefly for lunch, we crossed a bridge over the small strip of water separating Samosir from the mainland and followed signs up a steep hill to the springs. We found them steaming hot and nestled in the rocks behind a restaurant. 

They were almost completely deserted, save for one other traveler we had seen earlier at the Batak dance. We threw on our suits and enjoyed a nice long soak and a chat with him in the sulphur-filled pool. Wonderfully relaxed, we enjoyed another look at the island's houses and neighborhoods as we scooted home.

Just yesterday, we arrived in Pai—a small town in Northern Thailand where we'll be working for the next six weeks. We were met at the 'bus station' by Beth, the director and lead teacher of The Banyan Center, who immediately advised us to rent a motorbike to use during our stay here. At a mere 2000 baht (about $60) for a whole month of rental, a scooter was the obvious choice for getting around the area. We loaded our packs onto our new scooter and hers and she led us through Pai and up the short road to the school. Passing through the picturesque town, we struggled to balance our luggage on the motorbikes and admired our breathtaking new surroundings. As we pulled up to the school house—which will double as our residence while we're here—we gawked at the neon-colored clouds which adorned the tops of the mountains, ablaze from the setting sun and offering us an exquisite welcome to our new 'home'.  

Close Quarters

         So, there we were. A packed square in Penang. Throngs of tourists and locals alike surrounding a raucous and colorful performance. Our time in this vibrant place just so happened to coincide with the celebration of the Chinese New Year, and we had found ourselves amongst a busy street fair, set up along blocked streets throughout the town center in Georgetown, Malaysia. We were enjoying a beautiful display of the traditional “Dragon Dance” as well as the lesser-known “Lion Dance.”

         Many of you are probably familiar with the Dragon Dance from movies and television: a group of a dozen or so men hold aloft a writhing paper or cloth dragon while moving in and around each other, bobbing and weaving to create the illusion of a swooping dragon above them.

         The Lion Dance had 6 participants, 2 men inside of each lion costume, one for the head and front legs, one for the rear and hind legs. The dancers moved in unison, often with the front dancer leaping onto the shoulders of the back, creating a rearing lion-beast. Even more impressively, the displays of acrobatics often took place on precariously stacked tables. On the second table dancers jumped around in costume at a height that, if they fell, would have proven catastrophically injurious, if not fatal.

         As we watched, captivated, a curious thing happened. As the drums and gongs of the dance sounded along with the noise of the crowd, there arose the unmistakable vocals of a public Quran recitation (“Salah” in Arabic). The Mosque nearby had, like countless others we've encountered throughout Malaysia and Indonesia, set up a loudspeaker system on the street outside, so the prayer could be heard for blocks. The beating drums and writhing dragon juxtaposed to the solemn call from the Mosque was simultaneously starkly incongruent and beautiful. The moment clearly exemplified the effects of centuries of immigration and international trade that make Malaysia such a wonderful fusion of cultures.  (If you listen carefully at the start of the video above, you'll hear the call from the Mosque).

A member of a "gamelan" ensemble performing for the New Year's Celebration

         Examples of such encounters become innumerable in a place like Penang. A brief walk through its “Little India” neighborhood will lead one past countless wafting odors of curries, tandoori chickens on spits and naan bread baking. And as the Indian restaurants grow sparse, the Chinese and Arabic influences become increasingly apparent along a main avenue like Queen Street. Indeed, many of the “restos” we patronized during our time there were “all-inclusive,” filling their menus with dishes from India, China, the Middle East, Indonesia and Malaysia, capitalizing on the differing tastes and traditions of the diverse populace.

         This harmonious blending of cultures has been one of the most rewarding aspects of our time in Malaysia and Indonesia so far. And, while being an American I am no stranger to “melting pot” cultures, I have been inspired time and again by the tolerance and respect given here across cultural, and especially religious boundaries. It is one thing for a place to offer foods from varying cultural traditions. It is another thing entirely for neighbors, flatmates, coworkers friends and even family members of differing yet devout religious beliefs to live peacefully together.

The mosque adjacent to where the Dragon Dance was performed

A shrine at a Burmese Buddhist temple in Penang 

       










A few days ago, on our way south to Lake Toba from Berastagi, our driver stopped at a small Batak village to allow us to learn a bit about Batak culture and get a close-up view of their beautiful traditional architecture. We were led into a refurbished Batak dwelling—beautiful bowed arch of a roof, colorful friezes lining the outer wall, and an interior unlike anything I had encountered before. The inside of the dwelling was laid out like a long low-ceilinged dining hall, lit only by a few small windows and the two opposite entryways. 4 small cooking areas butted up against floor mats for sleeping and shelves for storage. The whole interior was stained soot-black by the smoke of cooking fires—a deterrent for both mosquitoes and termites. Our guide informed us that the space housed no less than eight separate families.

An example of traditional Batak architecture

A typical living space of a Batak house

The remarkable thing about the place was not only the cluttered and close proximity. It was the fact that often such dwellings house families who practice different religions. Our guide told us it was not uncommon for such houses to be home to Muslims, Christians and Animists (those practicing some form of traditional Batak beliefs) alike, and that it was expected that each respect the practices of the others. He gave us the example of Islam's prohibition on pork. All families living in a house with practicing Muslims willingly avoid eating pork in order to show respect for their neighbors. The families within a “Batak house” work to foster an environment of respect for everyone, regardless of creed.

         It seems a bit trite to make some idealistic comparison of a Batak house and it's diverse inhabitants to the culture of the world as a whole. But I think the former can, and must, serve as an exemplary microcosm for the lives and attitudes of every society. If 8 families of differing religious practices can coexist peacefully in a space the size of the average American garage, how can anyone say that religious barriers are too difficult to overcome?