A teacher, a crush, and a little brother

Ilias had been sitting on my shoulders for almost an hour, and I couldn’t take it much longer. But I promised Jo, his mother, that I would keep him up there so she could find us among the dense crowd at the Sunday night market in Chiang Mai.

Jo wanted to shop, and her six-year-old son, who had taken a liking to me when we met on the plane two days before -- drawing me pictures and giving me his favorite rock as a gift -- was getting restless. So I offered to take Ilias around the market to listen to live music and watch the Thai dancers. Jo agreed with the plan, saying she would find us when she was finished. The problem was, we hadn’t been found yet, and it was getting late.

I continued to walk with the curious blonde-haired boy atop my aching back.

“Hey buddy, keep looking for your mom, okay?” I continued to remind him.

The market seemed to go on forever. When I thought we were reaching the end, I discovered it branched out onto a street running perpendicular to the main road, giving us a one-in-three chance of choosing the direction Jo was in.

Ilias didn’t seem concerned the least bit. He continued to ask for money to put in the performers’ guitar cases and overturned hats. I, on the other hand, was a mixture of fatigued, concerned, and a dash of frustrated. I wanted to remove Ilias from my shoulders, but also I wanted to honor my promise to Jo, so I continued to tough it out. The thought of how worried she must be bothered me most. Even though I was a fellow American and had done nothing to cause suspicion, the fact remained that her only child was in a foreign country with a guy they had known only 48 hours.

I was having the kind of moment I experience once a week or so while traveling. It’s a “How-the-hell-did-I-get-myself-to-this-point?” moment. When I analyze the particular situation, it does not seem believable. Am I really walking around the streets of a city I’ve never heard of in northern Thailand at night with a six-year-old boy I didn’t know three days ago? I close my eyes, thinking there’s a chance I’ll wake up back home in Iowa. But when I open them, I find myself standing among a thick gathering of Thai strangers with dirty size-4 feet dangling in front of my face.

Jo had no way of knowing, but aside from my throbbing back, the two of us were doing just fine. Ilias was content with the balloon I bought him, and for me, hanging out with a six-year-old was refreshing. His creative ideas and funny conversation topics kept the mood light. I noticed a handful of girls giggling and taking pictures of the two of us.

“Can you put me down for a second so I can pull my pants up?” Ilias asked. “I think these girls are laughing at me because my butt crack is showing.”

I laughed, let him take care of business, threw him back up on my back, and asked what he thought we should do about our situation.

“Well, I think it would be a good idea to go back to the scooters because maybe my mom will look for us there.”

It was a perfect plan. If there was one wavelength we could all be on, it would be to meet up where we parked. For only being six, Ilias was a clever kid. We bought smoothies and played rhyming games while hanging our feet over the canal across from the bikes we had rented from the guesthouse. A half hour passed, yet still no sign of Jo.

I was officially worried at this point, but I hid it from Ilias, refusing to scare him. We played another game called “Would you rather.”

“Would you rather live in the ocean or on the clouds,” I asked Ilias.

“Um……..the clouds,” he answered. “Is that right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Wow, I’ve gotten seven right in a row,” Ilias said with a smile.

He then had to call for a timeout. “I have to go poop,” he said.

It was not good timing. It was important for us to remain close to the scooters in case Jo showed up. “Can you hold it?” I asked.

“No, or I might go poop in my pants,” he said.

I asked if he was big enough to go into the bathroom of the restaurant by himself.

“Yeah, but can you walk me across the street?”

“Of course I will buddy,” I said.

“Okay, just to let you know it might take a long time.”

“Okay.”

I stood outside the restaurant, feeling uncomfortable not having Ilias in my sight, but I knew I also had to keep an eye out for Jo. After desperately wanting to see Jo for two hours, I didn’t want her to show up for the few minutes Ilias was not by my side.

“Yay!” I heard from across the street. Jo came running at me. She did not appear upset, just relieved. Before she could even ask, I told her Ilias was safe on the toilet inside. She gave me a big hug, squeezing my sore back.

***

“Are you from North America?” I asked Jo upon meeting her.

Rightfully so, she laughed at the way I posed the question.

“When I hear a familiar accent, I always ask the person if they’re from America, and they always end up being from Canada and get offended,” I explained.

I found out Jo and her son Ilias were living in San Francisco, and her friend Chris came from Salt Lake City. Chris had a lip piercing and Jo had the center of her nose pierced. They both had intense tattoos and mohawks and were in their mid-30s. They seemed like very interesting people, and I didn’t want our conversation on the short shuttle to the flight that would take us from Bangkok to Chiang Mai to end.

When we went to locate our seats on the plane, we discovered that Jo and I were placed right across the aisle from one another.

“That’s convenient,” she said.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

I immediately had a crush on Jo. I’m not sure if she could sense this or not, and I wasn’t about to tell her. She did inform me that Chris had a girlfriend, and it wasn’t her. My book remained in the seat pocket ahead of me throughout the flight as I talked to Jo about any and everything.

“What’s your favorite color?” Ilias yelled from the window seat across the isle. This was the first thing he ever said to me, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Blue,” I told him.

Ilias went on to create three masterpieces on the hour-long flight to Chiang Mai while Jo gave me some recommendations of places to stay in the city I hadn’t researched. She pointed to the guesthouse she was staying at, saying it looked very cozy on the website.

“A driver is supposed to pick us up at the airport, so you could follow us and ask him if there are any rooms available.”

It sounded good to me. Rarely do I ever make reservations prior to heading to a city. I like to leave room for a little luck. And there I was, face-to-face with a little luck.

Two nights prior, I had arrived on a ferry to the small island of Koh Phangan in the Gulf in Thailand with nowhere to stay. Upon jumping off the boat into the water I met a group of three from Switzerland who also had not made reservations. The four of us spent the next hour on a quest to find a place with availability. The answer “no” began to sound like a broken record. Had I been on my own, this would have been frustrating. As a group, it was an adventure. Eventually we found a set of cabanas that had just opened (by the looks of things that day) for $4. Something always seems to happen.

So I followed Jo, Chris, and Ilias into the airport. I told them I had to use the ATM machine.

“I want to go with you!” Ilias said, grabbing my hand. I looked to Jo for approval.

“You’re not going to sell him on the black market?” she asked.

“I’m not making any promises,” I joked.

From that point on, Ilias and I were best friends. When crossing the street, Ilias wanted to hold my hand. When riding over to the guesthouse, Ilias wanted to sit next to me. For the first time in my life, I got to play big brother.

***

The driver was also the owner of The WaLai House. His name was Yo, and I liked him from the start. He was 30 with a wife and a five-month-old baby named Leo. He told us about his family and about Chiang Mai.

“Every Saturday some friends and I take motorcycles up to the mountains, and I always ask guests if they’d like to go. We go through the jungle. We see elephants. We can go white-water rafting. You just have to pay for gas. Would any of you be interested?” Yo asked.

“Count me in,” I said. “That sounds great.”

“Okay,” he said. “You know how to drive a motorcycle then?”

“Um, actually no.”

“Well you drive scooters back home, right?”

“Um, no, not too often.”

“You know how to drive a stick, you know, a car with a clutch?”

“Actually I never had to.”

“Hmm.”

I would imagine that in most cases my background would automatically disqualify me from embarking on this sort of trip. But I learned that Yo was not about to leave anyone hanging.

“Okay, tonight we will take my bike out and I will teach you,” Yo said.

“That would be great.” I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

After an unplanned three-hour nap, I strolled into the lobby to find Yo waiting for me. The sun would set in a couple hours. We were short on time.

“You ready to do this?” Yo asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

I never checked to confirm this, but if you looked up patience in the Thai dictionary, you may find a picture of Yo.

The next three hours of Yo’s life were dedicated to teaching a kid he had just met who did not understand how a clutch worked, who had never even sat on the back of a motorcycle, to drive one.

Not that I know what I’m talking about, but apparently Yo’s bike was a few levels up from what I would normally learn on. It was a 650 cc engine. I was told 250 would probably be more my style.

He would start the bike and hop off. I would hop on, prepare to drive, and accidentally kill the engine. I would get off the bike, Yo would get back on, start the bike and hop off. I would give myself a pep talk, hop on, prepare to drive, and accidentally kill the engine.

Yo never showed a hint of frustration. He never threw out the option of calling it quits. He continued to talk me through the steps. Give it a little gas while releasing the clutch. If it starts to die, pull back on the clutch.

By the time the sun set, I was nearly an expert at driving in circles around the parking lot in second gear. I thanked Yo endlessly for his patience. We rented a bike for the next day for me – a 250 engine with an automatic start – and decided to hit the streets. Aside from pissing off a handful of impatient drivers, I felt pretty good about my driving. Although, riding on the left side of the road took a little getting used to. Just as I was gaining some confidence, I followed Yo on a U-turn, giving my bike way too much gas and releasing the clutch way too quickly, putting me and the bike at a 45-degree angle.

When I caught up to Yo and parked the bike, he let out a deep breath as a sign of relief.

“I thought for sure we were going to the hospital,” he said. “But you kept control. Nice job.”

Later that night, we went out for a drink to celebrate with two of the other guys who would join us on the next day’s adventure.

The music was loud. I reached over to yell into Yo’s ear.

“You think I’m ready for tomorrow?” I asked.

“Man, I’m not sure,” he said while laughing.

“Well, at least your honest.”

***

I hesitate to ever rank events throughout my trip, but I am confident saying not only was the next day one of the best days of my trip, it was one of the most memorable days of my life.

Five of us rode 50 km into the jungles of Northern Thailand, climbing the mountains, navigating around roaming cattle and soaking up the scenery of elephants hanging out by the rapids running through the tiny villages.

We reached speeds of 90 km/hour on the highway. I was protected by a helmet, knee and elbow pads, and had Yo watching my every move. He continued to give me thumbs-up in approval. I was nearly always the last in line, but I felt pretty damn good about my ability to keep up given the fact I had no idea how to do this the day before.

The winding road and the soft patches of dirt throughout the mountains made for some difficult driving. I came upon a pair of cows that left a narrow gap for me to squeeze through as a made a turn. I had one second to be proud of myself for avoiding the obstacles before my front wheel encountered a giant rock that sent me flying off the bike and onto the red, rocky road. This was the second of three falls, and by far the one with the hardest impact. The padding did its job for the most part. I made it through the entire day with only a few cuts on my hands, a rather significant cut on my right shin, and a few tears in my favorite pair of pants.

The Thai were preparing to celebrate their New Year, and the most common ritual is to soak everyone in water. As I rode through a small village, my eyes focused in on a tiny seven-year-old girl with a big bucket and an even bigger smile across her face. Her timing was right on the money. Her little arms ejected the water from the bucket, which landed a direct hit, covering every part of my front side. I could do nothing but laugh at the one-in-a-million shot. I looked back at Yo, who was giving me a thumbs-up.

After a refreshing rafting trip through the jungle, we went to hang out with an elephant. Yo held my camera, snapping pictures as I interacted with the giant creature.

“Get in closer,” Yo encouraged. “Hug his trunk.”

As the elephant chomped on his wad of grass, I could tell he wanted nothing to do with me. And he let me know it. When his trunk connected with my chest, I felt like Mike Tyson was throwing punches. I stumbled back a few feet as everyone laughed. I still don’t know if Yo knew that would happen. Part of me thinks he did.

I was fatigued. We were hitting the last few kilometers on the ride back of the 11-hour trip when my gas ran out. I had visions of kicking my legs up at the guesthouse, telling Jo and Ilias my stories. It appeared I would have to wait awhile. I sat on the side of the road, waiting for Yo to notice I was not behind him and head back my direction. After several minutes, he appeared, put my bike in neutral, and pushed my dead motorcycle with his leg all the way to the gas station.

None of the setbacks fazed me. Nothing could take away from the experience of riding a motorcycle by myself for the first time in the jungles of Thailand. In fact, the cuts and rips and elephant punches and soaking wet clothes all added to the adventure.

When we arrived back at the WaLai House, I told Yo he didn’t know how much the day meant to me. He seemed really proud, like he taught his own son to drive for the first time.

“You’re a great teacher man,” I said. “Soon enough you’ll be teaching little Leo to ride.”

I took a much-needed shower and headed back to the lounge area in hopes of meeting up with Jo and Ilias. They were there waiting for me, and had already heard from Chris about all my tales.

“I heard you got beat up by and elephant and flew off your bike three times,” Jo said. “Nice work.”

“Yeah, but I’m still alive to tell about it.”

We had a good group at the WaLai House. I didn’t want to leave Chiang Mai the next day. I sent my travel agent an e-mail asking if I could change my flight the next morning and extend my time there a few more days. I didn’t hear back from him. I didn’t sleep well that night. I wanted more time with Yo and Chris and Jo and Ilias. I woke up, thinking I had overslept, but the clock informed me it was only the middle of the night. I checked my e-mail.

“Brian, it’s done. You’re flight leaves at the same time in two days,” the message read.

I left a note at the desk telling them to cancel my taxi to the airport. I slipped a note under Jo’s door telling her to wake me the next morning because I had good news.

I managed to sleep until 11. I had a knock on my door. It was Jo. She seemed excited when she heard I wasn’t leaving. She invited me to join her to check out the temples around town. A group of six of us shared two scooters up the mountain to what was supposed to be the most famous temple in the area. Jo drove while I sat on the back with Ilias in the middle. Halfway up the hill, we noticed we had a flat tire. We pulled over, not knowing what to do. A family piled into a truck pulled over to help. Although there were already four kids in the truck bed, they managed to squeeze in three more people and a scooter. Jo and Ilias climbed inside while I shared the back with four Thai teenagers. Three remained silent. One asked more questions than Ilias. The problem was, I understood one out of every ten. His English was poor, but his questioning was relentless.

“What is name?”

“Brian”

He pointed through the truck window at Jo, and then I assume made a mistake with his pronouns.

“And my girlfriend’s name?”

I hid my laughter. “Her name is Jo.”

We made it to the temple just in time to see the sun set. Ilias bowed in front of the statues as I snapped pictures of the setting sun weaving its view in and out of the temple windows.

***

I spent my last day in Chiang Mai relaxing. I got a highly-recommended, hour-long massage from a guy at the school for the blind for the equivalent of less than $3. I winced like a baby the entire hour, but made little noise to give no hint of my inability to take the pain. My body was beat up from launching off the motorcycle, so I needed a little repair work done.

Later that night we gathered in Jo, Chris, and Ilias’ room for a movie. I went to take a seat on the floor.

“There’s room up here on the bed,” Jo said.

I laid down behind her, paying half attention to "Walk the Line" as she weaved her legs in with mine. The movie ended. Chris and Ilias were sound asleep. Jo asked for a hug. I gave her one along with a kiss on the cheek. I stood up, said goodnight, closed the door behind me, and slowly headed to my room. I couldn't fall asleep, hoping Jo would knock on my door. She never did.

The next day my taxi arrived early. Everyone was still asleep, so I told the driver to wait as I ran upstairs. Ilias had made me promise the night before that I would say goodbye before I left.

“Thanks for a great time,” I told everyone. Ilias hugged me, not wanting to let go. Jo hugged me, but she was only half awake. I walked out the door, not sure if I’d ever see any of them again.

I left a painting I had bought for Yo as a gift on the front desk. I hopped in with the taxi driver, leaving a teacher, a little brother, a crush, and Thailand behind.