Lost on Earth

This weekend Blaise had two friends visit from France - Jerome and Matilde (all three are pictured above). We decided to rent motorbikes and drive to Ban Rak Thai on Sunday. Ban Rak Thai sits uneasily at the northernmost tip of Thailand, in the heart of the Golden Triangle. It is a KMT village, which means that it is mostly populated by a band of ex-KMT soldiers who spent their lives dedicated to fighting communism in China. It is also a border town with Myanmar, which I just a few short meters outside the city limits. Ban Rak Thai is most well-known not only for is ties to the KMT but also for its tea, which is grown locally and sold in every restaurant and shop. When you sit down for a meal several teas are always provided in small teapots, served in small delicate cups, with the hope that the traveling tourist will chose to buy one of the air-tight parcels of tea-leaves along with his meal.

Driving to Ban Rak Thai was a stupid idea. I had spent the day before in the hospital with a badly infected foot, and although I received medication, the foot was still swollen and sore when I left on Sunday. We took a leisurely drive through mountains so green and lush that they make me angry. It is a privilege to see such beautiful land and people every day, but the knowledge that I am going home to an ugly city full of unattractive functional building, functional cement freeways, and functional public parks almost ruins the experience.

When we reached Ban Rak Thai we realized that we were not sure where to go (and I suspect that we actually didn’t know why we went there in the first place) and we found ourselves driving up a red, muddy trail, presumably towards the Myanmar border. Suddenly, and I don’t quite remember what happened, my motorbike spilled to the side, throwing me to the ground with my steadily swelling foot caught underneath the searing hot exhaust pipe. I don’t expect it to be my last motorbike accident, but I think it might be the only on that happens on the border of a country with an oppressive regime.

After that my foot doubled in size and burned and throbbed and my mood grew dark. At Blaise’s suggestion we ate lunch and then took a nap under a shelter next to the small lake in the center of the village. We drank coffee and smoked cigars with a jovial Chinese man who used to work as a trekking guide in Mae Hong Son. His father was a KMT soldier. We asked him if Myanmar looked different than Thailand. Yes, he said. In Myanmar there are many beautiful trees. In Thailand all of the trees have been cut down and replanted again.
It is now Monday and my foot still feels hot, sore and swollen.