Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Chiang Mai: What’s All the Jazz About?

When people travel to Thailand there are a few places that they are going to visit. Chiang Mai is one of these well-toured locations. So I stuffed my backpack full of expectations on my five-day weekend up north.

My friend and I took the 12-hour night bus from the northeast to the north, a windy drive through jungles and mountains that has been deemed the most dangerous route in Thailand. Some of the older teachers at my school highly discouraged this trek, telling me that if my parents knew about my horror ride they would buy me a flight in a heartbeat. But talk, is talk, and sometimes you just have to do what you put your mind (and bank account) to. And besides the slight tossing and turning, we arrived safely.

Our first day in Chiang Mai and I was quickly reminded why I love backpackers. Backpackers are a select type of budget traveler that pack lightly but carry tons of adventure stories. Walking into a hostel is very different than entering a hotel or resort, because as you enter you automatically become friends with everyone. Everyone is very open with sharing where they’re from, why they’re here, and where they’re going . . . and there is no judgment. Most specifically no judgment for asking their name again. And again. And again.  

We all understand that travel friends are infinite but travel memory retention is poor.

With newly made friends in tote, we hitched a ride to the infamous temple on the mountain, Doi Suthep. As the travel blogs noted Doi Suthep is nothing too amazing, especially if you have visited temples in Thailand before. But it’s completely worth it for the view. It sits high on a mountain overlooking the greater city of Chiang Mai. It’s a magical viewpoint where you really recognize that mountains surround this walking city; it’s natural surroundings become evermore obvious. Our day was followed by slurping down some khao soi, the city’s signature dish of flat egg noodles in a coconut milk-based red curry soup. That night I worked on checking off my Thai travel list while I watched my first Muay Thai kickboxing fight. I never imagined they’d go at each other so hard, but the hard hits were still heard over the cacophony of audience jumble and live music. When this one guy was socked in the eye and dropped to the floor, I had to look away. It was a strange mix of an avid interest in what was going down and covering my eyes in terror.

On our second day we decided to partake in a tour. Chiang Mai is a very well organized tourism machine, and because of this many activities are expensive. But all the activities are also very cool, so we swallowed our thrifty attitude and spent some cash. If you know me well, you know I am an agriculture aficionado. My idea of continuing my education does not look like getting my Masters degree; it looks like me knee-deep in mud working in the drizzling rain planting and understanding nature’s tendencies.  So a cooking class on a farm seemed like the most perfect day ever. And it was. We woke up early, joined two strangers traveling from the US, and drove off to the market. Our Thai friend pointed out ingredients we would need that day and let us try things we had yet to savor. As we drove onto his farm, I couldn’t help but smile, exchanging stories with a professor and her friend who had made a conference trip into a longer vacation. Once at his property, we took a tour smelling and tasting and asking lots and lots of questions around his garden. With rice paddies as our backdrop, we got to work preparing four courses. I decided on green curry, tom kha gai soup, pad thai, and spring rolls . . . all concocted with love from yours truly. Since I live in an apartment that is essentially a bed, a bathroom, and a balcony, I have missed my kitchen space. Making food that I’ve seen go from simple ingredient to the plate makes me feel connected to my food source. There was something so satisfying in putting together my own meal, and how much more special that it was situated on a Thai farm.


The amazing day continued as I returned back to the hostel, joining a fleet of newly made friends who were hanging out. My friend, Helen, from the Cambodia yoga retreat had been living in Chiang Mai for a few weeks and she headed on over for a long overdue embrace. And it’s always interesting when my friends meet someone I’ve been talking about. I share what an amazing time we’ve had together but I often don’t include the trivial details like our age difference. So when my friend arrives simultaneously with a pair of 20-somethings, they ask, “which one is she?” And I just walk right on past them to my beaming friend who I haven’t seen in over a month. Age isn’t one of those things I see as a person’s defining characteristics. I more importantly describe my friend as someone who is forthcoming, interesting, mature, and intelligent. So I find myself laughing inside when people later comment, “I hope I’m just like Helen when I’m older.”

Because for me, I think, why not be just like Helen right now?

After a night filled with laughter and shuffling sticky cards, we woke up early the next morning for an adventure filled day. I had been let in on a local secret from a Canadian expat of the best adrenaline activity in Chiang Mai: cliff jumping at the rock quarry. And I was super excited. So, the crew from Khon Kaen, Helen and I grabbed a songthaew, our own private pickup truck. But as we drove up to the canyon, it was taped off, and a police officer immediately played paparazzi snapping endless photos of us. We soon discovered that the large group of Thais surrounding the complex weren’t there to watch us jump, but were waiting for a body to rise. The previous day, a young Korean man had jumped to his death and never surfaced. It was a very eerie scene and I felt myself highly discomforted. I couldn’t help but selfishly think that if I was in that water, hundreds of people would be diving looking for me, my friends mourning by the scene. But that wasn’t the case; Thais were laughing and casually enjoying their afternoon by the quarry. It seemed like they were playing a game to see who would see the body surface first. Common decency and respect were completely absent.


We soon decided to take a more mellow approach to the day, because when something like that happens you can’t help but be shaken up. A calm and relaxing afternoon by a local Thai lake lined with straw-hut restaurants absolved all worries. Filling up on papaya salad and Leo beer while we let the day just be. We had no activities. No to-do list. We were able to converse and kick it by water and mountains, all gracious for the beautiful gift of life.


The rest of the days were spent upgrading to a nicer hotel, with a pool and vegetarian restaurant. A guesthouse that had an interesting mix between backpacker and family with only a few dorm rooms. The best $12 a night I’ve ever spent. Helen and I practiced yoga in a beautiful studio tucked in town; I connected with the teacher and the class was so uplifting. I remembered how special it is to have a community to practice with, something I miss with my home practice.

But getting flexible in the studio did not compare to the flexibility seen in the Lady Boy show that night. The cabaret show came right out of The Birdcage- the outfits were outrageous and the dance moves were scandalous. I couldn’t help but keep laughing at this girl seated front row, jaw-dropped the whole time, looking very confused as she decided if she was looking at a female or a male.


The rest of our vacation was spent wandering temples and walking streets. The night market scene was vast and very popular. But it is really geared towards tourists. Don’t get me wrong, some of the items are cute and different, there are handmade blankets and lotus flower shaped soap. There are elephant sculptures and the ever-so popular parachute pants.
                                                               
But I can’t accumulate all these little gifts.

If there is one thing I learned on this trip, it’s that I’m not a tourist.

I’m not here to pack up my backpack and head to the next destination on my trail.

Unlike all those tourists, I’m not off to Vietnam or Cambodia or Laos.

I’m here to pack up my backpack and head home.

Home to my little corner of Thailand: Isaan, the Northeast.





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