BanLai and PhuSang Waterfall

My Thai friends, Thia, wife Loth and sons With and Korn arrive in a borrowed car at half past seven. We go to the waterfall Phu Sang.

I tell Thia that I only remember a waterfall Nam Min and that this one is new to me. When we arrive in a national park I realize that we have been here before. I know that invisible next to the small waterfall is a huge stone staircase leading up and that above are hot springs. How fortunate I was here before, because I can't go up those stairs because of shortness of breath and I can't go down because of my weak bones. Youth goes up and I drink a cup of coffee.

Then we head towards the border with Laos, but of course we are stopped there. We take the road to Phu Chi Fa through the mountain range that marks the border with Laos. Forty kilometers of winding roads uphill, downhill. A beautiful region. I can't imagine the well-known Doi Tung being more beautiful. We regularly see representatives of hill tribes. Small in stature and colorfully dressed. Untouched jungles alternate with cultivated soil. Maybe a pity about the woods, but you can't eat a tree. Emancipation has also taken place here. I see a male farm worker with a cloth on his back, in which is a baby. In villages we see many small houses. Needless to say, Thia says that these are not houses, but rice houses. The nature here is breathtaking.

I take a lot of pictures, because you always have a view that makes you think, this is even more beautiful than before. At one point I see a parking lot with a Mobile Phone Use Area sign. I don't know if this place was built because calling in the car is forbidden or because there aren't cell towers everywhere here in the mountains. The village of Phu Chi Fan has a large number of holiday bungalows, stuck against the mountain. And a restaurant. The tables are made of two-by-one slate slabs, irregular in shape. For two hours, the whole way, we didn't see a car. Here we are just two minutes before a car with two Thai girls and a foreigner stops. We greet each other, but happily keep our distance.

At the restaurant I photograph many tiny flowers. I am now sixty-six years old, come from a coffee-drinking country, have often been to Indonesia, but by some fateful coincidence I have never seen a plant with coffee beans. Thia now points out such a bush to me. I think this is where our delicious coffee comes from. A ภาษาไทย probably thinks, this is where our Nescafe comes from. In the restaurant I see that With is wearing a T-shirt with I hart (love) myself. I wonder if this is politically motivated and coming from the party of Thaksin Thai Rak Thai (Thais love Thais). In general, supporters of the old deposed prime minister live here.

A little further there is a high vantage point and the first pictures I take are in sunny weather, then fog banks drift past for a short time. Everything is equally beautiful. It is also cold here high in the mountains. We can go up another 780 meters on foot, but I will leave that to the youth. What a beautiful sunset in this area. We're going back again. Fortunately, because my camera's battery is empty. Along the way a check of heavily armed police. It's not about money, but apparently about more serious matters. In the hotels I read for a few hours. In the evening we eat at Thia's house. Fortunately, the usual drunkards, which I despise, are not there. Only one neighbor comes in to drink a lemonade glass with Mekhong, the Thai whiskey, in two sips. I have mixed feelings about eating here, but it is well-intentioned. The fish is tasty.