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Published: April 3rd 2006
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For those unawares, the title of today's entry is a quote from the movie, Dumb and Dumber, and while it is a good description of the characters in the film, it's a spectacularly apt label for myself and my cohort on this particular day.
The previous evening I agreed to head to a nearby temple built on a mountain via a moped my roommate had rented. After visitng the wat we proceeded to go to the top of the mountain for the view, after enjoying the scene we were planning on heading home, but my cohort decided to turn onto a nearby dirt road to go a couple of miles to a nearby Hmong village. So, we bounced along the road (road being a generous description), up and down hills, and to my considerable suprise actually making it to the village.
Upon arrival, it became immediately apparent that they didn’t really want us there. Understandble, as going to a place where poverty is the tourist attraction makes me feel pretty sleazy. However, didn’t seem to bother my cohort and he happily snapped away with his camera and talked to some kids. As I was standing around feeling uncomfortable, I
looked up and noticed the sun ominously setting behind the mountains. After that, we putted a bit further past the village to a modest wat. Whereupon a monk came out and chatted with us in very broken English and informed us that yes indeed we could continue down this dirt path to Chiang Mai . . .
And that’s when the adventure really began, as the surrounding jungle became darker and darker (and significantly more foreboding), we motored down a rapidly deteriorating path. Soon I had to pay attention (I was the passenger) to the route for three reasons: to hop off and push the bike up steeper inclines, to take my feet off the pegs provide stablization when the bike threatened to topple over (think of outriggers on a boat) and to bail off the contraption when it was driven into a ravine (never happened, but came close numerous times). After a ways, we were suprised to find an unexpected intersection, to which we guessed as to which was correct. Eventually, and not too suprisingly, the road led into a field for a ways, then ceased to exist, about then I began to seriously contemplate the fact that
I would most likely miss the next day’s bus because I would be sleeping in the jungle.
We turned around and I eventually convinced the driver to go all the way back the way we came. Soon enough, we hit an intersection neither of us remembered, I picked one and figured one in three odds were better than many get. While bouncing along wondering how I would get home, I failed at banishing some interesting thoughts from my head, such as “haven’t I seen a cheesy horror movie that starts this way,” “I wonder what the farmer will do to us when he sees we may have driven through his field,” “I wonder, how long of a walk is back to Chiang Mai.”
Fortunately, we guessed properly and soon enough found ourselves back in the pitch black Hmong villae, as there where not lights. We were sitting on the moped trying to pick out the proper road (road being a vast overstatement, more or less picking the proper dirt opening between huts). Eventually, we came across a villager just coming out of the shower (he was wet and wearing a towel) and asked for directions (by which I
mean said, “Chiang Mai?” and pointed). He pointed the way and then saw how low we were on gas.
I now found myself in the unlikely situation of being one of two farang sitting in a pitch black Hmong village at 8:30 at night, out somewhere beyond the middle of nowher, watching a kind soul siphon gas out of his motorbike and into ours. As there didn't seem to be any other diversions in the village this night, by the time we left we had a whole entourage watching the process. None spoke English, but I am sure “stupid farang” must have been said numerous times in Hmong. Finally we were off, with a full tank of gas and left the village belting a rousing, if off-key, rendition of John Denver’s “Take Me Home Country Roads.”
We finished the night by going back to the wat at about 9:30 pm, it was still open and we quietly walked around. It was an incredible atmosphere, with a gentle wind blowing through numerous wind chimes. We observed various monks (we were the only Westerners there) were going through various ablutions around a variety of statues and such. We then headed
off to tour the night market and had a drink in celebration of making it home alive for a night in a comfortable bed.
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