Getting here was still arduous, despite the quasi-luxury of the train. Not full luxury because I was too cheap to pay the extra $10 for A/C. But for $12 it was OK (except for the annoying ladyboy steward/stewardess) and I got my own stuffy bed in a lower berth. The train stopped throughout the night, and at each stop a loudspeaker announced where the train was going, so sleep was difficult.

It took 14 hours on the train to get to Chiang Mai, the only city in Thailand without motorcycle taxis. I didn’t want to get ripped off by tuk tuk drivers, so I walked to the bus station.

Travel in Thailand may be luxurious, but not to remote places. The last leg of my journey was on a tiny bus with no A/C filled with farang crammed into the small seats. Why is a provincial bus to a village in the middle of nowhere full of farang? Lonely Planet. All it takes is a mention of some obscure place for it to become hippie heaven.

And Pai really is that, and not just for the common, garden variety backpacker-cum-hippie, but for real specimens, straight out of the 1970’s, complete with long, filthy hair, unkempt beards, and old, dirty clothes. Throughout the three hour journey on the curvey mountain road, a veteran hippie regaled some newcomers on where to get weed and psychedelic mushrooms, and told them about his new house. I wonder how long he’s been here. Judging by his beard, at least six months.

I still haven’t explored Pai. It’s a very small town, but has a very large backpacker industry. I’ll probably rent a bike tomorrow, then I might sign up for a trek.