Slice of Pie

Nesting. It's gotten to the point where my room actually looks like somebody lives there. On the little balcony there is an electric wok that I really only use to boil water. There is art on the walls: a photograph of Elvis with the King of Thailand from some time during the Korean War. Elvis is sitting next to the queen and has shifted in his chair so that one leg is on the queen's chair and she has shifted away from him, she looks very anxious and it makes you wonder just what Elvis is pointing out to her. Looks like he might be saying "see that! Isn't that weird? What do you call that anyway?" The king is looking at Elvis with his jaw agape. I have a desk, with two wooden statues on it. Newspapers are piling up so the eccentric paranoid shut-in hermit look is starting to suggest itself, which is the basic gist of my decorating style. And I have two plants which, unlike every other plant I've ever had, aren't dead yet. So that's a plus.

But I was able to make it out of Chiang Mai recently by taking a trip up to Pai pronounced and from now on spelled "Pie". To get to this town you have to drive on Mobius strip twisted roads that wind through the mountains. I discovered the road when I was out prowling around one day in what I thought was a secluded seldom-tourist-reached area only to accidentally turn on to a well kept hightway with a lot of white people on it. Eventually the terrain levels out and you descend into a spread out, wide valley floor. A few farms are arranged around a thing stream. The main town is nothing but a collection of long dusty quiet streets. It is more like the American Old West than Tombstone Arizona. There are a lot of old dark saloons, and a few people stopped on motorbikes at one of the three traffic lights in town. There were some greasy white people drinking coffee, talking quietly and slowly eyeing the scene. A few dogs were nosing around some garbage. I found a gusthouse witha shady palm-tree garden and a front porch which inspired lethargy. Aside from the drug rumors, I couldn't figure out why people were always talking about this place.

Then I turned the corner.

This is where I realized that Pie is actually not in Thailand, but an hour or two outside of Santa Barbara. A flock of hemp shirts and sarongs squawked around bead vendors and cappuccino shops. The dusty road was trampled flat by the soles of many a stinking Birkenstock. An upscale restaurant offered California wine and an internet shop had bean bags instead of chairs. The hippies sat around gazing through their squinty weed-shot eyes and talked about massages, crystal healing and trekking.

I sat around reading In Cold Blood in front of a convenience store and was asked 5 times in an hour for a light, twice where the bus station was, and once where someone could find condoms. There was a lot of interaction in this tiny town and it was clear that some people had no intention of ever leaving.

I was handed a pamphlet with an calendar on it:

Monday: Guided meditation to discover original nature, with Stan. (I think Stan is the one that handed it to me: a man who simply said he was from Pie, in a way that suggested he was materialized here at the age of fifty-something and had never lived in Oregon or upstate-anywhere as I'm sure he did.)

Wednesday: Reiki Share. (Reiki is a kind of healing massage... I'm sorry, I meant happy hippy touching time)
this is followed by the Spaghetti Dinner & Music Jam

Friday: International Dinner with French Chef & Music Jam
This is hippy summer camp. I thought that life in Chiang Mai was too easy, but this place can really take the cynicism and sarcasm out of you right quick. I was a real thorn in the slip n' slide here. There is also a large constituency of gorgeous women all over the age of 40. Maybe it's the vegan diets or the natural soap or the white water rafting or circular breathing, it was an apparent trend.

At night I took the motorbike out of the city a little ways. It's not much of a city and to get out of it takes about 10 minutes. It was very cold, a welcome relief, and very dark, so I went searching for a good star view. With the spread out desert land, it was easy to find a place without too much obstruction. On the other hand it was hard to find a place without wild dogs chasing you.
I stopped the bike on one hill and took the keys out of the ignition. I was gazing up at the milky way and thinking all my profound thoughts: "I wonder what E.T. is doing RIGHT now?" When a dog poked its little yellow head around the corner at me. It cocked its brow and got a big doggy smile on its face. Then it started barking its head off. Another small brown dog came up and started barking at me. I fumbled with the keys, trying to find the ignition slot in the dark. More goddamn dogs. They started walking towards me real slow, like Puppy West Side Story. My hands were shaking, I finally got the thing started and tore straight towards them, breaking up the ranks and splitting the scene as I heard gates opening and people yelling at the dogs in Thai.

I returned to my allowed and alllowed the sweet sound of drunk bantering Israelis in the courtyard lull me to sleep.