Another blog from my journal:
The story of May 8th actually begins on May 6th. As Ryan and I walked into one of the plethora of tailor shops in Chaing Mai, Dom and Peter lagged behind to buy takarat (?) balls (softball-sized balls made of woven reeds, used in a sport akin to foot volley). After some time, they came into the tailor's; Peter announced that they were going to be meditating with a man they met, "Daffy", (who we seem to call all apparently nutty caucasian men, after a character in the movie The Beach, which was filmed on a beach we visited here). After the 100 baht meditation, Daffy would be giving them a map of the best areas to trek to around Chiang Mai, something we all wanted to do ourselves to avoid the banality and gross expense (2000 baht plus) of going on treks organized by Thai tourism locals.
Ryan and I stayed in the Night Bazaar area while Peter and Dom went to their 8pm meditation chez Daffy, with the understanding that we'd meet at Hong Kong Tailors at 10pm for our scheduled preliminary suit fittings. Ryan and I ran into Kerry and Amy (two Brits we met on Ko Tao, really fun people, I've written about them elsewhere, but don't think on the blog), who accompanied us to the shop. Ten came and went, the tailor arrived, fitted Ryan and I, and left at 10:20. Kerry, Amy, Ryan and my conversation vascillated from from confusion to comedy to anxiety as 45 minutes passed with no sign of the boys.
Words fail to describe the looks on the boys' faces. An approximation would say it was a visually palpable mixture of euphoria and exhaustion, with strong tones of shell-shocked bewilderment.
They indeed got a "map" from Daffy: a plain white sheet of paper with a few lines and nebulous symbols. It seemed inconceivable then that this plain sheet of paper with a few scribbled lines from a questionably sane man would be our only guide through the vast countryside of a strange country with no back up plan. What could go wrong?
Fast forward to May 8th.
(To be continued...)
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