My last post ended with a quote from the Lonely Planet about the mountain village that we drove, Father. I remember her: "Emerge from nothing on a cool, damp corner of a valley protected by mountains along a meandering river". What the guide did not say is that Pai is-with permission of the island of Ko Phagnan, where each month we celebrate the mythical "full moon party"- the most touristic place in Thailand. It follows that, some years, Bangkok rich Thais suffering from a fever with this small town, indeed full of charm, in which they have installed their second residence and which they have turned into something similar to our Santillana del Mar. Saturated Beauty.
And, truth, is not this what we were chasing. So from the moment you get off the bus we started looking for another destination. To find Ruum helped us, a crazy Thai girl came to Pai from his native village and began to work cleaning rooms contact with strangers and ask them to help "out of poverty" by teaching him to speak English.
Ruum guidebook was made in a village in one of the many indigenous groups, the Lisu, and makes his life more than worthily carrying foreigners to do trekking through the jungle. So when he learned of our plans, sent us to that place, called Ban Rim Nam, where there is only accommodation for tourists, called Lisu Lodge, which is owned by Rudi and Amy, more quirky marriage I've ever met in life.
He is a German of noble ancestry. Serious, inarticulate, clung to strict customs like exactly dinner at six pm every day, bed at eight-thirty and get up at half past six. Whatever happens. He likes to watch, always at exactly the same time, German news, to download a computer that go pedal, and every night, before going to bed, says, “Do you need something more?”. Not, Rudy, Thanks. “Ok, see you tomorrow”. Amy, instead, is the most vivacious and smiling indigenous've seen, always dressed in bright blue suit of their ethnicity, always busy in a thousand things. He does not speak Lisu, she does not speak German. His English, believe me, fails to regulate. When asked how they manage to be understood, Amy Me contest, laughing: "We have our own language". I reject the notion imagine them in bed ...
The fact is that we will stay at Ban Rim Nam few days, to make a few mountain hikes. That I will tell you soon, but today I will talk about what I did this weekend: 'Run half marathon in Pai! Turns out I saw a sign advertising the race for Sunday, and I said: is the perfect opportunity to experience firsthand how it is in Asia. I save the adventure until I got someone to tell me how to sign up. Anyway, eighteen hours after, and after questioning 1.200 People, had my registration and very cute pink shirt for only 150 bats, namely, three pennies.
So on Saturday I left the kids at Ban Rim Nam and came to Pai, because the race was at six o'clock. No one can say that with travel arrangements and the first days in Thailand has trained hard. But the fact is that my friends started to tell me: "Look, if you win". "Go that as you take the cup and the prize". And I said "Do not, fuck, do not say crap. How do I gain?"But inside I began to build castles in the air .... What if you are very bad and win? What fun!
Orson is from Kenya and his coach sent to Asia to toughen, which is ten months and has won eight or ten races in Thailand and Malaysia
Well, as I ride the bus to Pai, Saturday morning, and sit next to a nigger who asks me: "Do you speak English?”. Y le digo: "A little". And she tells me, well at close range, Orson called, Kenya is, that is an athlete and his coach sent to Asia to toughen, which is ten months and has won eight or ten races in Thailand and Malaysia. You have 24 years and directed to Pai, the morning run. Without exaggeration, I think Orson could win although he did eat an ox, drink two bottles of whiskey and take the other side of town at the time of departure without sleep.
The fact is that as more relaxed, and aware that I will not win a race in life, I stick the great morning and I stand there with my cold, cold in the mountains- and my pink shirt. To begin with, I say that here are half marathons 12 km, thing that pleases me greatly. Then I discover that there are no distinctions by category. Ie, go out all at once, children, youth, more, aged, mothers, aunts, grandmothers ...
Dan la salida, and it is as if they had been threatened with death. I wondered if I was mistaken and were 120 m instead of 12 km. Clear, enseguida empecé recoger the people who iba walking. And the funny thing is that when they saw ahead one who was not there…are stung! And then again esprintaban, I adelantaban, and a hundred yards away and turned to stop seeing me go I smiled to face "goodbye, unlucky. See if you escuernas soon ".
Te gave kilometers of water each, and each 300 meters you put a bracelet on the wrist, a mano chip. If you did not have forty bracelets at the end of the race, is that they had done the whole. When he was about to die, to reach its goal, says a guy I follow, are fourteen kilometers. I stop almost. I've had to be among the first hundred-were not more than 500- I do not see anywhere to Kenyan Orson, should have won and go to sleep for a while. Good thing I took a picture with him at the exit, because otherwise nobody is going to believe the story. Balance final: I have a medal that weighs three kilos, a new sweatshirt sweat, widespread pain that I imagine will last four days and a dream that does not give me to return to the guest. Go with the experience ... next time I better go to see a concert Tai.
