North of Heaven

Thick roots belonging to a tangle of nature I had never seen before protruded onto the road. Branches holding different shades of green painted the landscapes either side of us, and below, our motors tinkered and hummed away dutifully, determined it would seem to get us to Pai. Our convoy consisted of my brothers and a few English boys, friendships that were cemented across a hostel table of empty beer bottles and ash trays. 

Pai itself was bustling with people going this way and that, travellers and locals all part of a crazy choreography that fuelled the town. We parked and handed over our keys to the rental company and in turn they gave us our luggage. But where too now? I could see the question dancing on everyone's lips, as their eyes chased every footstep of passersby and wisps of smoke that twirled in the air.  We all stood there for a moment, looking lost no doubt but with no desire to be found. Every street promised to lead to somewhere worthwhile. I licked my lips. Eventually one of the English boys suggested dumping our bags somewhere before dark. Good idea, but instead we decided to celebrate our arrival with a drink at a bar across the road, and I was relieved to put my bags down and sit and soak up the whole beautiful place. 

In the following days we were told by an old, wise and wispy haired man about elephants that lived just beyond the town's borders. After some suspiciously levied questions the man assured us it was ethical, so we hired bikes again and rolled out of Pai. Photos on the web or in books truly don't do those creatures justice. Awe. Awe was the only word that came to my mind. And it wasn’t the sheer size of them that made me feel so small and insignificant, but rather the eyes. I saw something ancient yet youthful, stirring yet calm. Here they simply grazed in a field and that is where they will always remain in my mind. I rode away and bent my eyes toward the road, with my helmet visor open I was surrounded by the humid air and the feeling that a small part of me had been changed forever.

That night we shot some pool under bar-light glow and slowly sipped our beers, heavy on the thought that it was our last night together. I watched the faces of strangers morph into one big blur as they sped by outside and I was acutely aware of how much I would miss this small corner of the world. Later we ate a final meal of khao soi huddled on plastic stools behind a street vendor's cart. I remember thinking I’d allow myself to lean into the old cliche of ‘bittersweet’, because that’s exactly what the moment was. 

In the morning we clasped hands and said goodbye as my brothers and I climbed into a four seater. I felt a heaviness settle over me again, and pushed the sliding door until I heard a definitive ‘click.’ The van began a lazy rattle out of Pai and I looked back to see our friends standing and waving for a full two minutes growing smaller and smaller until they were engulfed by the northern landscape and the happenings of the day.

I continued to look around at everyone outside my window and wondered where they came from, who they missed and who they hated, who they loved, who they hurt, and for what they were sorry. If this was the most fun they had ever had. I wanted to promise them it would all be okay, and mean it. I don't know, it all hit me at once, and I had nothing worthy to tell anyone. 

I left that place with the powerful memory of too much fun with people that were already dimming in my mind. Travelling had in turn broken my heart as much as it had fixed it, but that’s probably the point. Our van coiled and spun up the mountains we had ridden down only a few days ago, eyes peeled in excitement for what was to come. The dirt crackled under the wheels and we sat with the low voice of our driver singing a Thai song through headphones. We had found ourselves somewhere on the northside of who we used to be and whatever heaven was waiting for us next. 

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Finn Hewett is a young Australian writer, raised in both Tasmania and Victoria. This divided upbringing has cultivated an obsession for nostalgia and the desire for constant travel. He recently completed a three month journey around Southeast Asia, writing feverishly along the way.