As soon as the Christmas festivities at Sara's school were finished, we hit the road for the New Year's holiday. Sara had found us an amazing place to stay on Doi Inthanon in Chiang Mai called the Bamboo Hut. We caught a bus to Chiang Mai on the side of the road in Hang Chat and almost made it out of the city before the bus broke down. Luckily, the bus attendant had a backup plan: have everybody stand on the side of the road and hope someone came to our rescue. About a half hour later, a different, equally disheveled, twice as full bus rolled up and the crowd of refugees squeezed on board, bound for Chiang Mai. For real this time.
The owner of the Bamboo Hut (and their homestay), Nong, picked us up and we headed about an hour outside of Chiang Mai city. She dropped us off at a temple in the main town Mae Wang. It was here that we met Nong’s husband Koko, who would be our constant companion for the next two nights. His reliable old pickup truck just managed to climb the sheer cliff "road" that led up to the cabins, and I considered us lucky for surviving until Sara and I noticed hill tribe villagers riding their motorbikes up and down the mountain.
The owner of the Bamboo Hut (and their homestay), Nong, picked us up and we headed about an hour outside of Chiang Mai city. She dropped us off at a temple in the main town Mae Wang. It was here that we met Nong’s husband Koko, who would be our constant companion for the next two nights. His reliable old pickup truck just managed to climb the sheer cliff "road" that led up to the cabins, and I considered us lucky for surviving until Sara and I noticed hill tribe villagers riding their motorbikes up and down the mountain.
