Massage at nine, three dishes cooked myself, one game of chess lost.

After two hours of Muay Thai the day before, my body had exactly one wish in the morning. At nine I was on the massage table: legs, shoulders, arms, neck, all kneaded through once. Nuad Thai, Thai massage, has been on the UNESCO intangible cultural heritage list since 2019. So this morning I was officially kneaded by world heritage. Then a quick matcha latte in a café full of plants, and on the steps of a temple a short greeting with a monk.

Iced matcha latte on a white wooden table in the plant-filled garden of a café in Pai. — Matcha instead of Thai tea. The local classic would be cha yen, bright orange and very sweet; the colour mostly comes from food colouring in the mix.

Then three hours of Thai cooking at a cookery school. I got to pick three dishes: Pad Thai, Khao Soi and a warm glass noodle salad with shrimp and chicken. The curry paste for the Khao Soi is made in the stone mortar, all by hand. In Thailand they say you can recognise a good cook by the rhythm of her mortar. My rhythm: more free jazz. Pad Thai, by the way, is younger than it looks: it only became the national dish around 1940, when the government made it part of a campaign for a Thai identity. And the glass noodles in the salad are made from mung bean starch; they only turn clear in hot water. The guidance was perfect, step by step. The only real problem: eating everything within those three hours.

Two cooking teachers in dark red aprons preparing ingredients, a wok on a gas burner and a plate of vegetables for Pad Thai in front. — First they show it, then it is my turn. The secret in Pad Thai is tamarind: it brings the sourness, palm sugar the sweetness.

Massage, cooking, eating: that combination earned something. For the first time on this trip, a two-hour afternoon nap, in the small hut in the garden.

Dark retro bar with old cinema seats, a wall covered in cassette covers, a tube TV running a video game and a chequered floor. — Philips introduced the compact cassette in 1963. Half the print run seems to hang on this wall.

The last evening in Pai is meant to be quiet. Nice bars, small chill clubs, hardly anyone there. Late September is still rainy season; the busy season only starts in November. Who cares, the music and the atmosphere are enough. One bar has the Last Supper as a DJ set on the wall, next to old cinema seats and a tube TV running a video game from the eighties. Then, in a games bar, chess with a stranger, with a ginger-lime soda, how else. Lost. Pai as a whole, though: a clear win in the north.

Open wooden bar at night with wicker lamps, a wine rack and a DJ in front of a red curtain, almost no guests. — Last evening in Pai: a DJ, good music and more wine bottles than guests.

Tomorrow less storytelling. The long way back to Bangkok, and a new way to travel for it: night train, sleeping compartment.

More photos from this chapter

Monk in an orange robe standing on the tiled steps of a temple under flags and a carved wooden roof. — Monks here live by 227 rules. Many Thai men become monks at least once in their lives, sometimes only for a few weeks.

Open cookery school kitchen with gas burners, ingredients and a row of woks on the wall under the school sign. — Savoei, “A Taste of Pai”. Pad simply means “stir-fried”, so Pad Thai is roughly “stir-fried the Thai way”.

Close-up of hands cutting dried chillies and spices on a round wooden block, a mortar and a plate with chicken and shallots next to it. — Chillies are immigrants here: Portuguese traders brought them from the Americas in the 16th century. Before that pepper did the heat, and in Thai it is still called phrik thai, “Thai chilli”.

Small wooden hut with a steep pointed roof, porch and wooden stairs among tall tropical plants. — Two hours of afternoon sleep, the first of the trip. What jet lag could not do, Muay Thai, massage and three dishes managed together.

Wall picture of the Last Supper with Jesus behind two turntables and colourful disco beams above. — Leonardo needed about three years for the original in Milan. The turntables came later.

Chessboard mid-game on a round wooden table, a glass of ginger-lime soda with ice, lighters and an ashtray beside it. — Thailand has its own chess, makruk, with pieces that move differently. I still managed to lose the ordinary kind.

A postcard about this chapter?

A thought, a question or just hello. It goes straight to me.