There was some point about an hour or two after we got back when the three of us, sitting around a bottle of whiskey commemorating a successful trip, all looked at each other and realized how rediculously lucky we were to have come back in one piece. I don't know why it felt so safe to be on the road like that, but in retrospect we were riding like madmen on cycles that slipped and skidded every time we had to stop, without helmets, without gloves, without insurance. Whew.

I guess the reality of our recklessness really sunk in when we saw our friend who had been taking life very easily since his accident on the second day of the trip. We found him living in a bungalow 8 km from town with a bandage wrapped around his shaved head like a turban. Before the accident, he was a ready-to-go party hearty Sir Fucksalot whose goal was to fulfill some bet he made to sleep with 100 women during his 7 months. But instead of spending the next week using his scars and badass haircut to his sexual advantage, he locked himself up in his bungalow for the next 5 days to meditate. By the time we saw him, he had a new glare behind his eyes that shone through the layers of sweat and shit that come from a week of not washing your head. He had a new lease on life, and was making the best of it. Strikingly different than the rest of ours' intention to live hard and fast.

Anyway I'm back in Chiang Mai cause I need to make a "Visa Run." Thailand offers a free 30-day tourist visa, so anybody who wants to stay in the country longer than that has to leave every 30 days and re-enter. There are busses that take you from here directly to the Myanmar border just to get the passport stamped and then turn back. From Pai it takes about 7 hours each way. From Chiang Mai I think I can do it in 3, so I rented another motorbike and am going to spend the day on the road tomorrow. This time with a helmet, on the highway, going slow. I've had enough of physical danger for one week.