A Visit to Pai

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Pai (pronounced “bpai”) is a small town of roughly 2000 people, and is known as a “hippy enclave.”  Some people say it's worth visiting, and others say it's overrated. Last week, I headed there to decide for myself. Overall, I had a great time, but I can understand people's divergent perspectives on this town. 

The bus ride from Chiang Mai to Pai is typically just under four hours. I took a minibus (12 passengers), and the driver got us there in two and a half hours. The journey is known to be nauseating, regardless of the driver’s level of insanity; it’s a long drive through winding mountain roads. The bus station even sells dimenhydrinate (gravol/dramamine) in front of the Pai buses. I’m glad I took some (two passengers got sick along the way). I just wish I brought a helmet and some elbow pads, as sharp turns at high speeds can get a backseat passenger pretty banged up.

I arrived in Pai with my breakfast still in my stomach, and immediately felt the relaxed vibe this town is known for. The main street was full of small restaurants, coffee shops, and bars, many of which offered live music (particularly reggae) during the evenings. As expected, there was no shortage of westerners with dreadlocks and rice-farmer pants. What surprised me, however, was the proportion of foreigners. By the looks of it, they seemed to outnumber the locals. There was also a very noticeable amount of Japanese tourists, and there was a five-day Japanese festival happening in a nearby village. I still can’t figure out how that came into fruition, but I didn’t think too much about it—such is the law of the land. I also couldn’t help but notice a unique breed of people: the Thai Rasta. These are Thai guys with dreadlocks and Jamaican-themed clothes, hanging out in the town’s many reggae bars and cafes.

Being the stubborn person that I am, I decided to try and find my hostel on foot without any directions. Besides, I like the challenge. With both a guitar and a backpack strapped to me, I walked for nearly an hour in the heat and didn’t find it. I caved and asked couple that was in a nearby cafe. The man then asked his girlfriend if she could wait there for a few minutes, and he insisted on giving me a ride on his motorcycle. We had a short conversation along the way, during which he told me that he was originally from Michigan, and has been living in Pai for six years. This was an ideal intro to the town, as encounters with friendly strangers and stories of long-term western visitors are both common in Pai.  What was even more ideal was the hostelling experience.

I’ve never been able to understand why any traveller would choose a hotel over a hostel (unless it’s a family vacation). Hotels are soulless, lonely, and expensive; hostels, on the other hand, are generally friendly, fun, and conducive to creating new friendships. The same usually applies to guesthouses and homestays, albeit to a lesser extent. While hostelling in Pai, I learned a lot from other travellers (e.g. best places to visit in Southeast Asia, hostel recommendations, contacts, etc). This is one of the many benefits of hostelling; it’s like a concentrated social experience. It’s also bittersweet because you meet new people, form new social groups, and say goodbye—all in a short time span.

I stayed in two different (but equally awesome) hostels during my four nights in Pai. The first hostel is a short walk from the main town, and it consists of large bamboo dorms surrounded by a rice field. There are also several animals living on site, including a dog, a cat, cows, and several roosters (my daily wake-up call). This popular hostel is known for its relaxed atmosphere and bonfires, and I paid less than five dollars per night. I also rented a motorbike for about the same daily price as the hostel (did I mention I love this country?).  It’s the best way to get around, as there are waterfalls, hiking trails, a canyon, elephants, and hot springs all within a few kilometers of the town, but taxis are scarce. 

Within minutes of being at the hostel, I met about a dozen people from North America, Europe, and Australia, and we headed out on a few rides to see the aforementioned sites. In between, we relaxed in the common area—an elevated hut, loaded with hammocks. It always amazes me how quickly friendships and social dynamics develop in these types of places. This hostel was no exception; I met and got to know some truly awesome people in a very short amount of time.

After two and a half days, I reluctantly stuck with my plan to stay at another well-known hostel, located in the centre of town. As much as I didn’t want to leave the new friends I met, I got to meet and spend time with some more great people. The second hostel is popular among musicians, and nightly jams are the norm. How could I resist? Needless to say, I caught up on a lot of guitar playing. On my final day I decided to have a “Pai day.” Basically, this is a day during which you do a whole lot of nothing. At most, you lie down on a hammock and read, or maybe play some table tennis. I’ve never enjoyed doing nothing so much. It was a “nothing binge,” and it made me want to do even more nothings. 

During two of my nights in the town, I wandered the night market with whoever was present when the idea came up. Like any Asian night market, this one has clothes, food, and souvenirs. This market, however, also features a samurai-viking who sells hot and cold tea in bamboo stalks.

Despite all the good things, there is another side to Pai. Corrupt police, nearby opium fields, excessive tourism, and the recent influx of western residents have made it a very unusual palce. The latter has resulted in some resentment from the locals, as many foreigners open businesses there (semi-legally), and make very little effort to get to know the language, let alone pronounce the town’s name properly. However, the most notable problem that I noticed in Pai was that of tourists getting into motorbike accidents. I’m fairly experienced and cautious on motorbikes/scooters, but what I saw in Pai diminished my desire to ride. Renting a motorbike is “the thing to do” in Pai, and the bike rental places will rent to anyone, regardless of licenses or experience. I witnessed a few minor accidents while there, but there is an alarmingly noticeable proportion of tourists with motorbike injuries. A local resident told me that fatal accidents happen frequently, but the authorities keep the information from spreading. He also told me about an emergency-room doctor who kept a written record of motorbike injuries and deaths, and spoke about them in a documentary. Shortly after the documentary was filmed, the doctor was graced with a visit from some influential people, and the hospital “changed” its record-keeping rules. Regardless of the politics, riding is a motorbike in Southeast Asia comes with significant risks, and Pai is an egregious example of what happens when too many inexperienced drivers are added to the mix. One backpacker told me that when he brought a friend to the emergency room for a foot injury, it was full of severely injured tourists. He said that he needed to get out of there because of the “bad vibes.” To me, this was just the reality hitting him hard—Pai is not perfect. For those of us who had little desire to ride motorbikes, there were always hammocks.