Pai Canyon is located just near the Memorial Bridge that Pure once drove us past while we were at the farm. The road from town to the canyon isn’t difficult, since it sits right off the main route. But to reach the perfect spot for watching the sunset, I had to climb a steep staircase and navigate a long stretch of eroded gullies and slippery trails, no matter how carefully I stepped. My left knee still bears a faint scar from that slip. Yet, such challenges are the moments we never forget. Scars are like tattoos, marking stories that no one else can tell.
I watched the sun slowly roll down behind the ancient mountains. I quickly pulled out my travel journal to jot down a few lines before surrendering myself to the golden glow of the wild evening. So many people surrounded me.. some sat quietly, eyes fixed on the sun turning hazy shades of yellow and orange, some clicked away with cameras, and others whispered secrets only meant for each other.
Watching the sunset at Pai Canyon feels like a solemn ritual that everyone longs to witness at least once in their lifetime. It’s like a child of the divine, waiting for the first encounter with their father – a waiting filled with the hope that what lies ahead will be wondrous, breathtaking, and unforgettable.
Excerpt from My Travel Journal
“I’ve always loved standing before the vast, endless expanse, letting myself dissolve into the earth and sky. Always. And now, here I am. The sun has gone, leaving only a faint, golden glow flickering behind the mountains. Many people have already left after witnessing this wonder, and only a few remain. The wind has grown cooler, the sky darker. Ignoring the last rays of the day’s sunset, I turn to watch the slender crescent moon hanging in the sky, unnoticed, overlooked, uncherished by everyone else.”
“I’m in Pai, a land so peaceful and endlessly lovely. Pai is sweet, warm. Pai glimmers with color. Pai is graceful, full of life. Perhaps that’s why so many who come here fall deeply in love with this place. Today, I wandered Pai with my friend Loren from New Zealand on a small rented scooter through the town. Now, I’m utterly exhausted, ready to collapse into sleep. Tomorrow will be another day of chasing clouds and sunlight. I will rise early, breathe in the fresh morning of Pai, ride to the viewpoint to watch the sunrise, then return to town to sip a warm cup of tea and soak in a bit of peace. Today, I haven’t had a single sip of tea. I miss it. I really do miss it…”
Peaceful Days in Pai
That morning, I woke up very early, wanting to see Pai before anyone else, wanting to wander alone through its quiet streets while the town still slept, wanting to breathe in a little of the calm and stillness of a cold, misty dawn. The cafés were silent. Only a few breakfast stalls had begun to set up along the roadside. I let my feet carry me wherever they wished, simply walking and savoring the few precious moments meant just for me. Pai in the early morning is gentle and tender, completely different from the mischievous, sweet, colorful Pai of the late afternoon and evening. And it seems that no matter where you go, early mornings always carry the same quiet, pure, and gentle calm.
After finishing breakfast at a small roadside stall, I strolled back to the hostel, my heart as light as the clouds above. Everyone else was still asleep, but the birds were awake, stretching and hopping about, greeting the sunrise. The poetry book by Nguyễn Thiên Ngân, gifted to me in Đà Lạt, nestled in my small backpack. The longing for home had softened somewhat, but in those moments of solitude, surrounded by nature and absolute silence, it still pierced gently. In times like these, the book became a tender comfort, keeping my heart from trembling too sharply, soothing the ache of longing.
…
And still, the sun rises, the river flows,
And I once again become a cloud,
Drifting alone across the endless, boundless blue.”
Written on a clear, boundless morning, by the banks of the Pai River.
We arrived at the Viewpoint just before noon. By then, the sunlight had grown harsh, no longer the gentle caress of the morning. But we paid no mind to anything in the world; we lay there, open to the sky and earth, sharing the things we had long held within our hearts. Our worries, our anxieties, our plans, the beautiful and clear moments we had lived through over the years of growing up.
I understood Loren’s words, because like her, I had also walked through difficult days. The wind carries everything away when we stop holding on. That day, we let the breeze sweep away all our worries and fears, returning once more to being children of the sun, of wandering journeys, free and untethered.
I arrived in Pai during the Loy Krathong festival. Here, the celebration is held a day earlier than in Chiang Mai. That evening, Loren, a new friend from Scotland, and I wandered through the town, soaking in the cool, lively atmosphere before saying goodbye to this place. Pai at night is never quiet. On the night of Loy Krathong, it was even more bustling. Hundreds of colorful lanterns, made from banana trunks and intricately arranged flowers, were displayed everywhere. Every small street was filled with people’s faces and the sounds of cheerful, vibrant music.
Pai is a place for those wanting to escape all ties and societal expectations, to live life on their own terms. The shops, cafés, street stalls, and travelers all carry a hint of hippie spirit – free, wild, dreamy, which makes you want to explore every hidden corner immediately. We walked, taking in every nook of this small, charming, and lively town. Though I normally prefer quiet, less crowded places, in Pai, I couldn’t resist letting go and swaying along to the indie music like the wandering souls around me.
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