Weekend Retreat

Yonok Rafts

This past weekend, I had an amazing time! It started with a phone call from a fellow Ferang, asking if I wanted to go to dinner at Yonok Rafts. When living or traveling abroad, it is always a good idea to accept invitations (within reason, of course) that are extended your way. I jumped at this opportunity! Heck, it beat getting dinner at the market, and gave me an opportunity to meet and socialize with other Westerners – my fast-speaking English skills were starting to get rusty. After work on Friday, we met up and went to the Yonok Rafts. This restaurant can best be described as being pulled right from the movie Swiss Family Robinson. The restaurant is situated on a lake, and the tables are rafts with a grass roof – a floating grass hut, if you will. You walk down to your raft, order your food, and once it is brought out to you – you and your party pull yourselves out to the middle of the lake via a pulley system. You sit in this grass hut, in the middle of the lake, eating your dinner by candle light. It is a very intimate gathering, and most ideally set up for a date with that special someone. Sans my special someone, I still had a great time hanging out with fellow Westerners. It is one of those restraints where the food is good, but made even better because of the ambiance. I’m told there is a similar restaurant situated on a better lake, but the food is not as good. All I’m saying – middle of a lake, you, a potential special someone, and good food – you’re definitely going to score. Possibly right there in the raft!

Wat Mon Phraya Chae

The following day, I woke up feeling adventurous again. Having not learned my lesson from the previous misadventure to the Thailand Elephant Conservation Center, I decided Bixby and I (Bixby is the name of my bike) would take an adventure. We decided to stay closer to home this time, and ventured up to Wat Mon Phraya Chae. One thing I’ve discovered since I’ve been here – take a moment to detour off the beaten path. I have been surprised at where it has taken me. This was one such instance. I saw a sign a few days ago about a Wat (Buddhist Temple), which is situated up in the hills. I read a bit out it in my guide book and decided to check it out. The guide book made reference to there being some stairs involved with this Wat. Stairs? No problem – I used to do 45 minutes a day on the stair master. My gluteus was maximus and could handle anything this Thai country could throw at it. Bixby and I arrived at the Wat, and the first thing I see is a group of people meeting with some Monks. I stumbled awkwardly into a prayer session, and quickly realized that I still have my shoes on, and I am obviously interrupting. Not wanting to inflict any more cultural damage, I decided to make a quick exit and continue up the hill towards this infamous Wat. At first glance, I noticed the stairs ascending the hillside. The stairs seemed normal, nothing out of the ordinary, but I am having a difficult time seeing where they led to. No problem – I grab my backpack and start climbing. Did I mention that it is nearly 12 noon at this point? Yeah, the sun is at it’s peak, and so is the temperature for the day. Did I mention that I’m wearing jeans, a semi-white Hanes T-shirt, and sandles? Yeah, I was riding Bixby, and to avoid getting burned by him, or pelted with bugs on my legs, I usually wear jeans to protect myself. Not really noticing the time, heat, or my ill choice in wardrobe choice, I continued onward with my trek. As I began to round the first hill, I realized the stairs continue further. Not a problem – again, I’m a stair master pro. I continued climbing the stair case. The first sign that this trek might be more than what I bargained for, there were little bungalows situated at various points up the staircase of death. I reached a plateau – ideally a spot to stop and rest as it has a bench with some shade. I don’t need a rest – I can do this! Mind you, at this point I have really started to perspire. In fact, one might think it was Sunday morning at the 1st Congregation of Southern Baptists, and my name was Heidi Fleiss. Either way, I was determined to make it through this sermon and up these stairs. I continued with my mission, beginning another set of stairs with no foreseeable destination ahead. As I toke these stairs with a slower stride, I begin to think about the pain and agony it would be if I passed-out and fell backwards down the stairs. I could see it now – bleeding to death in the arms of a Monk because they didn’t believe in using things like bandages, sutchers, or even applying some pressure. Trying not to think about my possible demise, I shifted my focus to something positive – reaching the top of this never-ending hill. After a few more stairs, there it is – the infamous Wat! Wanting to snap a photo and call my journey complete at that point, I mustered up the final energy I needed and continued to the top. Having reached the top, I felt a bit like Rocky on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Unfortunately, I did not have that kind of energy. What I had instead, was a see-through T-shirt, jeans with some serious ass sweat, and a forehead that glistened like that of George Costanza. In short, I looked like I was freshly showered – in my clothes! The smell would allude otherwise. This was nothing like my 45 minutes on the stair master. Had I not been so exhausted, I would have composed a strongly worded letter right then and there to the makers of that machine, informing them that their choice of “master” was deceptive, at best. I also soon discovered why it is considered a place of worship. After climbing all those stairs, you either saw God because you died on the way, or you are so dehydrated that you are seeing images in your mind. God was there alright!

After exploring the Wat, and snapping some photos, I began my descent. I contemplated just rolling down and praying for the best, after all, it is a place of worship – God was close. Instead, I slowly began the trek down. This process was much easier, but I did manage to make use of the many stopping points along the route. It’s a good thing I remembered my water bottle, otherwise I would have been dead for sure! Reaching the bottom, I decided to take a quick break before jumping back on Bixby for the ride home.

Mon Phraya Look Out -- Sunset Picnic

As usual, the ride home proved to work as an instant dryer for my sweat-soaked clothes. This didn’t stop me from immediately jumping in the shower, re-hydrating myself, and laying down for a much needed nap. Waking up, I realized I had a text from a friend asking if I wanted to go to a sunset picnic at the Lampang look-out. Again, I know not to turn down an invitation, I immediately took them up on the offer. During the trip up to the look-out, I learned that it is near where I was earlier in the day. Thinking about those stairs, I had a moment of sheer dread. Fortunately, the look-out is at a national park, prior to the Wat. We reached the sunset point, and had a picnic with nearly 30 other Ferangs and their families. The sunset was a no-show, as the clouds from the afternoon rains blocked out our guest of honor. It was still a great time, and an opportunity to meet some great people. Still exhausted from the adventure earlier in the day, I decided to make it an early evening, and headed home shortly thereafter. It was a great weekend – but I needed a weekend from my weekend!