Blogging Abroad

Do you ever think back on your travels and have one place that was the ultimate destination? One peak traveling experience that keeps you wanting more and more? I do, it was a hill trek in the northern jungles of Thailand. The place was nice and the food was amazing, but what really made this trip extra ordinary was the people.

We were all in the same situation, backpackers who had been drinking cheap SangSom Thai whiskey in Bangkok, now up in the remote north. The rain poured the first day, and the thin dirt paths we followed transformed in to heavy orange mud with veins of water flowing in the opposite direction we were headed.

After a grueling first day, the first day of any strenuous exercise many of us eight backpackers had done in months, we arrived at a small camp with two huts, a fireplace, a table and a small river that was flowing about 15 paces away. That night after a freezing dip in the river we sat down, feeling accomplished and deserving of our grub. We talked around a candle for a few hours, but headed to bed early, both because we needed the sleep to recharge after today and we would need our rest for tomorrow.

The next morning we woke up and began the trek in single file following our knowledgeable leader Mr. Sack. The sun was out and the air was fresh. We followed him a much further distance this day, taking few breaks. The fauna was lusher as we were deeper in the jungle, or maybe everything just seemed more vibrant and green because of the rain the day before, and the bright sun that was out. We followed Mr. Sack to a small hill tribe village in the middle of the jungle. The village was situated in a valley; green rice paddocks grew in the distance at the base of the bordering hill. The village roads were orange dirt, and the dwellings simple huts rose above the ground.

Before we could rest, a group of local young men approached our group of trekkers and said to meet them over there, as they pointed towards a hill. We were not sure what to expect, but Mr. Sack urged us to join them and bring water. So we replenished our water and began walking through tiny dirt alleys and between houses with a few village dogs now following us. We had walked about 200 meters when we saw what the local young men were talking about. It was a soccer pitch on the outskirts of the village. An orange dirt pitch, it was flat and bordered by makeshift seating on one side and a rice paddock on the other. The villagers were kicking around the ball and urged us to join them. We played a game, the trekkers vs. the villagers. We got killed 11-1, but I blame that on being tired from the trek, and them having home field advantage.

Playing in this soccer game was the best experience I have ever had traveling.

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