I’m sitting in a cafe in Chiang Mai, Thailand right now,
waiting for my mango smoothie to arrive. The wifi in this cafe is excellent, so thought I’d take advantage of it to blog before my bus ride into the mountains this afternoon.
I went ziplining this morning and it was awesome!
We got the early bird special, so the mist was thick as I looked down through the treetops, ground obscured from view. Wandering around the city yesterday was nice: Ate delicious Thai street food (and the best Mexican food I’ve had in awhile), got a full body massage, and chatted and laughed with the women at the coffee shop and tourist agency. But today in the jungle, surrounded by leaves of all shapes and sizes, rain drops dripping on my cheeks, I sighed and thought to myself, “This is what I came for. I’M IN THE JUNGLE!!”
Unfortunately, I was not brave enough to bring my phone on the journey, so I have no pictures to show (only a certificate affirming me as part of an “elite group of thrill seekers”). But I have a feeling it won’t be the last time I go ziplining, so next time.
I was never thoroughly scared,
but that didn’t stop me from screaming at every turn, whether at the sudden 100-foot drop down or because it looked like I was heading straight for a tree or at the guides pretending they were going to crash into me (they teased us all quite a bit).
I could hear the guides talking about me a few times and I wondered if they were annoyed. “These American girls are wusses,” I imagined they were saying. But near the end of our adventure, the leader turned to me and said, “Well, you’re still alive.” When I smiled and explained, “I just scream a lot,” (and widen my eyes in a way that probably makes you think I’m more scared than I actually am), he replied, “Your scream makes energy for me.”
“Oh good.” I smiled. And then he pushed me off the edge.