This blogging thing has become much more difficult than previously anticipated as much more seems to be occurring in my life than I have time to update. But I think that I will take that as a great sign and a wonderful thing.
After long weeks of teaching and running around with little ones at the foundation, it is no secret that the volunteers are thrilled for the weekends. When three o'clock hits on Saturday afternoons, excitement is buzzing, and we are not slow to pack up our backpacks, climb into the back of a Songtao, and make our way into the city. Finally: we can wear shirts that don't cover our shoulders and shorts that are shorter than our knees! Sad part is, we usually wear these things as they are all that we brought with us. Oh well, at least we know that we could if we wanted to. Freedom.
We usually head into Chiang Rai and stay at the lovely Boon Ban Dan hostel at the center of the city, but this weekend we decided to mix it up a tad and grab a bus down to Chiang Mai. Chiang Mai is about a three hour bus ride south and a major hotspot for tourists and backpackers. Upon arriving at roughly 9:30 on Saturday night, I immediately fell in love. The city was reminiscent of many major cities at home while maintaining an authentic Thai atmosphere. After a couple weeks of being denied certain homely pleasures, the ability to go out to a nice bar and speak a bit of English with some fellow travelers was amazing. The town was crawling with backpackers who were either stopping in for the evening or traveling through to their next destination- which I believe added to the aura of adventure that surrounded me. It was thrilling to look around and know that most of these people have taken the risk to explore just as I have (and could probably teach me a thing or two.) Chang Mai was not only beautiful, but it gave me the taste of home that I was unaware I missed so much. Our nights were spent dancing at nearby bars, running around the city, and enjoying 4am Pad Thai. It was a lovely weekend.
And then things got interesting. As we packed to head home, we were very cautious of gathering the group in a timely fashion to be sure that we did not miss our bus. I don't think anything has ever been organized so poorly as we left late, lost various people on the way, and got stuck in gridlock traffic. We saw that our Songtao was moving about five feet in ten minutes, so we took it upon ourselves to grab our huge backpacks and sprint through the city. Sweat falling off of our faces, we continued to tell ourselves that surely the bus will be late and things will be just fine. I think we all secretly knew otherwise.
We missed our bus by three minutes and, as that was the last bus of the evening, were effectively stranded in the city. With the locations of many of our group members unknown, we carried on and decided that hitch hiking was the only option. Signs made, thumbs out, here we go.
I'd like to tell you that a long distance food truck pulled over and drove us all to freedom, but that was not the case. We ended up paying a fair amount to be practically taxi'd three hours away with our plethora of camera bags, backpacks, and personal belongings surrounding us. We laughed the entire way. I've always believed that the greatest of stories are made when things do not go according to plan but instead challenge and excite us. The thrill of sprinting through the foreign city and coming together with my volunteer family was an experience I will never forget. This place never fails to surprise me.
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