Vietnam - The North

Over the years, I’ve learned that my travel bias is in favor of remote beauty. I am drawn towards areas or regions that are somewhat difficult to reach, resulting in a sparse tourist presence, perhaps lacking on luxuries, but making up for it in simple pleasures and views that make up the daily life of the local population. While Vietnam’s north does have its fair share of the antithesis of this type of travel locale, with bustling Hanoi and over touristed Ha Long Bay, there are a myriad of treasures waiting to be unearthed throughout the windy, mountainous roads on your way to China.

Before heading remote, we made plans for the obligatory sights, spending a couple days in Hanoi and Ha Long Bay. Hanoi was more enjoyable that I’d remembered, with its myriad of alleys and markets in the old quarter, and delicious dining options spread out either on the street or in tiny hole-in-the-wall type restaurants, or perhaps right on the train tracks. What might seem like chaos is actually a well-oiled machine, with the freshest of foods and variety of services all at your fingertips. I took some time to purposely get lost one afternoon, walking through alleys filled with birdcages (the Vietnamese love their birds), stopping for a quick bowl of pho while avoiding having my toes run over in the street, bargaining for the best Ha Long Bay tour I could find, and relaxing under an overpass on tiny chairs while I waited for my Bia Hoi (fresh brewed beer) and peanuts to be served. I was most definitely out of place everywhere I sat, but, as is the case anywhere in the world, sitting down over a beer brings people together. The streets of Hanoi are a wanderer’s dream, it really is a crapshoot as to what you might come across, be it frogs in a bucket or the best tasting soup you’ve ever had.

Cruise booked, we opted to spend a couple days in Lan Ha bay, the less-visited neighbor to the famous Ha Long Bay. With many reports of trash and murky waters in Ha Long Bay, we were hoping for a bit more serenity, away from the party boats and general abuse of the pristine nature that can be found in the waters off the northern coast of Vietnam. While the weather didn’t exactly cooperate, it felt like the misty fog and rain added to the ominousness of the waters and the thousands of limestone karst islands that make up the scene. So, while there was no sunbathing on the deck to be enjoyed, the environment was more than conducive to a little rest and reflection. We passed floating fishing villages and remote beaches, stopping for an afternoon on Cat Ba island, sampling some local snake whiskey and sticking our feet in the river for a fish-eating frenzy.

The cruise itself was a comedy of errors. With the Coronavirus fears in full effect, demand was down and staff was low, leaving us with one cruise manager (Eagle) who played the role of formal host, kayak guide, happy hour party starter, tableside slam poetry reader (in Vietnamese), and morning Kung-Fu instructor (the Tai Chi instructor was gone, so we got Kung Fu instead). Eagle wasn’t particularly good at any of those roles, and he must have changed outfits at least 5 times, but we were along for the ride and couldn’t help but laugh at how seriously he took himself. The next day at dinner, a failed flambe attempt left one cruise guest completely on fire as everyone swarmed to put her out. Thankfully, no serious injuries occurred, but the mishap seemed to fit right in with the rest of the experience. By the time late night squid fishing rolled around, we were certain somebody would be lost at sea, but surprisingly it all went off without a hitch. As was the case the last time around, Ha Long and the surrounding bays are stunning, and should not be missed, just remember to bring your sense of humor.

Bidding farewell to our temporary travel friend, we left the city and headed for the hills in the far north of the country, arriving to Ba Be Lake as the sun was setting behind the mountains and a blue haze began to settle on the lake. A small agricultural village sits at one end of the lake, with almost every family home turned into a homestay in the hopes of attracting the tourist dollar. Our basic homestay came equipped with a dining deck overlooking acres of bright green rice fields running right into the lake. The combination of the geometric shapes and lines of the rice fields, the calm waters of the lake, the backdrop of densely forested mountains, and the complete silence (save for the incessant rooster crowing), did nothing but reinforce my biases for this kind of travel. A family style home-cooked meal and some strong rice wine capped it all off.  We spent the following day in a boat exploring around the lake and, while no site in particular was anything to write home about, we enjoyed a relaxing ride in yet another idyllic setting tucked away in a remote corner of an underappreciated travel destination.

Leaving Ba Be, we moved closer to the Chinese border, grabbing a motorbike and making the journey to Ban Gioc waterfall, on the border of Vietnam and China. It’s a spectacular, multi-level set of falls, with turquoise waters tucked between more limestone mountain formations. The ride itself may have been even more beautiful than the waterfall. Rolling hills, rice fields, and mountains, an environment as rural as it gets, we took detour after detour to find beautiful vistas, friendly faces, and scenes you wouldn’t believe were real unless you were looking at them. I’ve run out of words to describe the scenery and experience at this point, I just know the feelings evoked: freedom, awe, excitement, appreciation, disbelief, and the desire for more. I will go back to this region of the world over and over again and never grow tired of it. Vietnam may not be the easiest place to travel, but the rewards are unmatched.

I can’t wait to go back.

Vietnam - Caves & Karsts

Continuing our adventurous transport in Laos, we found ourselves crossing another remote border in an iffy bus that may or may not have been smuggling dozens of sacks of illegal charcoal into Vietnam. After nervously waiting while our passports were taken away for inspection for just a bit too long for comfort, we were finally relieved to hear the clicking of another stamp press as we made our way into the last country on our Southeast Asian itinerary. While Cambodia and Laos contain pockets of serenity and natural beauty between plenty of dusty, arid, and bleak landscapes, Vietnam seemingly contains nothing but lush jungle covering striking mountain landscapes and endless coastline. Colors change from bland to bright seemingly at the border.

After another 12+ hour day of travel, we arrived to my favorite of Vietnamese cities, Hoi An. Colorful walking streets filled with hanging lanterns, tea houses, coffee shops, restaurants, and, of course, the famous tailor shops, make Hoi An tough to top when it comes to charm. Meandering through the pastel alleys in search of homemade banana ice cream, coffee ice cubes, sweet herbal tonics, miniature snacking snails, local noodle and dumpling dishes, daily Banh Mi sandwiches, and historical shophouses, I was pleased to see Hoi An was just as enjoyable as I’d remembered. With the coast nearby, we spent a day lounging on white sands after exploring a few temples built into existing caves in the surrounding mountains. With some new found company from California, we rented bicycles and made our way across the river to a more rural island, with verdant rice fields and palm trees guiding our way through various villages, boat docks, and canals…leisurely exploration at its finest.

The country of Vietnam is much larger than you might imagine, with so many sights to see that one trip, even five trips for that matter, is not enough to enjoy all it has to offer. On my previous motorcycle adventure through the country, I’d skipped the region of Phong Nha, famous for its enormous cave systems, one of which is the largest known in the world. The train ride from the Hoi An area passed over the Hai Van pass, part of the old Demilitarized zone during the war. As if Vietnam hadn’t shown off enough already with its scenery, the slow train ride was nothing short of majestic, carving around and through the mountain range, revealing hidden beaches along the coast and rivers flowing from the mountains above, all with a backdrop of every shade of green you can imagine. The one-hour drive from the train station to our final destination was just as serene, with ominous limestone karsts in the distance and endless green rice fields lining the road and the rivers. Arriving in our bungalow for the evening, we made our way to a bench down by the river and enjoyed a refreshing beer while the fisherman came to shore and the smoke from small fires slowly billowed from the few houses along the opposite river bank. Idyllic to say the least.

We spent the next day in the hands of our trusty hotel owner turned chauffeur as he took us around to 3 of the most famous cave systems in the area. The first cave was the largest, with nearly a mile-long platform leading us deep into the earth. Massive formations growing from both the ceiling and floor, all lit up with different colors to accentuate the mineral rich contents, had us forgetting the reality that we were way further underground than we’d normally be comfortable with. Some ceilings looked as though they were painted in the Vatican, while small pools hidden from light sources looked so dark that I thought they might lead all the way to the center of the earth. It’s possible to follow the cave for 5 miles or so past the wooden platforms, but we opted to save that adventure for another day. The second cave required a zipline over the river to access, and more than our fair share of mud crawling to get through in some places. We were brought to a mud pool of sorts, with the softest mud you can imagine tickling our toes and making for a nice face scrub after months on the road. Overcoming a fear of small spaces, our crew squeezed through the darkness and made our way out of the cave, where an overwater obstacle course lay at our disposal. Rope swings, zip lines, American Ninja Warrior-type ropes courses, you name it. The views upstream and downstream were spectacular, with giant limestone karsts towering over the turquoise water of the river. Paradise found once again. The final stop of the day required a boat ride straight into another enormous cave, with more intricate formations and colorful walls waiting for us. Thinking about the random farmers that happened upon some of these caves had me daydreaming, as I often do, of discovering something which no eyes had ever been laid on until then. Throughout my life, the settings of these faux discoveries have changed from ruins in South America to some crater on the moon to an island on the high seas. Having not yet discovered any new frontier, I am resigned to accept that it’s all about the journey blah blah blah…

After enjoying another evening of smoky serenity on the shore, we decided 3 giant caves were enough and spent the following day back on motorbikes, two this time, to explore the countryside and visit the local hotspots, which did not disappoint. Our morning was spent at “The Duck Stop” where a local family has turned their Aflac white ducks into an obligatory stop for anybody looking to have a hundred ducks follow you around, give you a foot massage with their beaks, and ravenously eat from your hands while you hold them. Nearly the entirety of the 15 minutes with the ducks was spent laughing hysterically at their mannerisms and massaging skills. Further down the rocky dirt road, we found ourselves at another café overlooking the river below, this time fully equipped with a giant tree swing that was definitely safe. For a few dollars, we enjoyed a coffee, laid out on some hammocks, and braved the adventure swing out over the valley below. The ride back across narrow bridges, past a beautiful church, and through winding rice fields brought us to quaint little lunch spot, where a local family whips up everything from scratch (you can pick your chicken while it’s still walking around, if you’d like). The family spoke no English, but had a translated menu to choose from. The genuineness and welcoming environment were yet another reminder as to why I, and many others, are so drawn to this country. Here we were, sitting on low, open air tables next to a field of crops against a mountain backdrop, staring into a bare bones kitchen watching an entire family cook up our meal from items they’d just picked from their farm, smiling and gesturing with us as the sole means of communication between two groups full of gratitude for entirely different, yet intertwined, reasons.

We took a detour for the final leg home, passing along the riverbanks at dusk, waving to the young children outside on their porch, maneuvering our way between cows and water buffalo, catching glimpse after glimpse into homes right as dinner hour had come. By now I was used to seeing families sit down for dinner just inside their open front door, and no longer felt like I was intruding by letting my gaze linger. With each passing wave from families and children, we were invited further and further into a world that we knew was not ours, despite how graciously we were made to belong.

Si Phan Don, Laos

Often overlooked on many Southeast Asian travel itineraries in favor of Thailand or Vietnam, Laos is sandwiched between the two countries, along with Cambodia, its neighbor to the south. While every aspect of travel in Thailand comes with ease, there was no shortage of situations in Laos in which I found myself simply shaking my head and laughing it off because, well, what else could I do?

The adventures started with our arrangements from Siem Reap, Cambodia, the jumping off point for Angkor Wat. We were meant to take one bus to the remote Laos border, then another from the border to the edge of the Mekong River, where we’d cross by boat to Don Det, a backpacker-filled island within the region of Si Phan Don (translated to Four Thousand Islands). What really happened was we took one van, one bus, one 2-hour rest stop, one kilometer-long walk across the border, one covered truck-bed crammed with 15 backpackers and backpacks, and finally, one rickety boat across the river to reach our island home for the next 3 days. The trip became progressively less comfortable, capped off by the 30-minute walk in the dark along the dirt path to our accommodation. While the road was rigorous, we reached the beach / boat dock just in time to watch a blood-red sun sink into the river behind the hazy skies of the remote paradise of four thousand islands, a reminder that the trip was well worth the trouble.

There’s not much to do on Don Det, with no cars or other transport options, bicycles become the preferred mode of transportation, assuming you can navigate through the soft sands and potholes around. Simple guesthouses line the shores, each with their own small restaurants and coffee shops and hammocks. There’s a sunrise and a sunset side of the island, best enjoyed with a coffee or a beer, depending on which side you find yourself. While there is a small amount of debauchery and hippy-ish life going on, the island is very mellow compared to many of the party islands in Thailand. We spent our days cycling around Don Det and the neighboring island, enjoying the calm river views, the small hikes to waterfalls, and the overall sleepy vibe of an oasis in the middle of nowhere.

Si Phan Don’s famous residents are the Irrawaddy dolphins, who live in the waters of the Mekong River between Laos and Cambodia. While quite shy compared to other dolphins, and with their populations currently on the decline, we were fortunate enough to be able to catch a glimpse of a small group while in the area. They proved to be too quick for the camera lens, however. It takes no more than a day to check off all the must-dos in the region, leaving plenty of time for watching the sun make its way from one side of the island to the other, hammock hopping between riverside restaurants and juice shacks, and reflecting on the simplicity of a so-called travel adventure.

Once bicycles could no longer cut it, we traded pedals for gears and found ourselves atop a motorbike once again, this time headed for the Bolaven plateau, the coffee growing region of Laos, where homestays and coffee plantations are nestled between waterfalls and roaring rivers, for another few days of getting lost off the tourist trail. Our first stop, after passing by quite possibly the longest string of watermelon stalls on earth, was at a local coffee plantation turned homestay, where we received a makeshift tour of the crops and coffee processing facilities by Mr. Vieng. We were also treated to a tasty appetizer of tree ants smashed between the leaves of the coffee trees. They actually tasted delicious, just the right amount of zest! We enjoyed a home-cooked meal under a thatched roof that Mr. Vieng had slowly built up from a roadside stop to a full-blown compound, basic bungalows and all. We walked the roads, admiring the adolescent’s skills while they played a game that looked like volleyball, with the use of feet instead of hands, and the thousands of cassava roots drying out in the evening sun after a hard day’s processing. We awoke to fresh roasted coffee from the plantation, and stocked up for future brewing before heading out to our next homestay, the infamous Captain Hook’s.

Captain Hook’s homestay was an eye-opener, in both the best and worst way. The small village consists of a few hundred people, and since Hook wasn’t keen on the normal agricultural duties that make up life in the village, he began taking in tourists a few years back, giving them tours of the village and coffee plantation, and offering affordable homestays along with home cooked meals. What we soon found out, though, was that we were about to receive a whole lot more than we bargained for. Upon arriving to Hook’s home, we gathered in area underneath the stilted house, home to 20+ of Hook’s relatives. Hook was roasting fresh coffee beans, while his young helper was smoking out of 3-foot long bamboo bong, eyes glazed and bloodshot. The tour started simply enough, as Hook walked us through the coffee plantation, telling us all about the origins of coffee that he’d Wikipedia-d over the years. Most of the information seemed legitimate, but after 45 minutes without much walking, we were ready to move on. Meandering through the village surrounds, we found many foreign plants used for medicinal purposes, and even a leaf and nectar we used to blow bubbles. Throughout the walk, we saw many locals picking coffee beans, large bamboo bongs by their side. We learned many a disturbing fact about the village along the way, ranging from 5-year old smokers to unattended forest births, from child marriage to family banishment into the jungle whenever accidents occurred. The most disturbing were the animal mutilation and sacrifices, too graphic to mention here. The animist beliefs and practices of the village were enlightening, if not disturbing. There’s a dance the governments are forced to play with many of the indigenous groups, a balance between allowing traditions to remain, while ensuring everyone is playing somewhat by the rules when it comes to health and safety, particularly for the children.

It became apparent that the villagers don’t exactly take too kindly to Hook, as we were not introduced to anyone outside his family members, and our lodging for the evening was far outside the village. I imagine they allow him to continue the tours solely because it brings a steady stream of income to the village. Nevertheless, the basic bungalows proved to be a peaceful place to reflect on all the craziness we’d experienced during the tour, as we watched another blood red sun fall behind the mountains and valley below. When the time for dinner came, we gathered in the large family room while naked babies ran around, kids smoked from the bongs, and the rest of the family gathered around the small television to watch Muay Thai fights. We traded stories with the English-speaking young adults, and chowed down on some delicious dishes, family style. Following dinner, we went dessert hunting, catching as many crickets, grasshoppers, frogs, and even catfish as we could. It was hilariously awkward, as I think our young guides waited anxiously every evening for this event. We ended up with quite the haul, and watched them clean and cook our findings with some lemongrass and chiles, another surprisingly delicious treat that we hadn’t planned on partaking in earlier. We sat around the campfire and watched the family interact joyfully with each other, smoking their bongs and laughing away as if we weren’t even there.

I can’t decide whether the whole experience at Captain Hook’s homestay was a positive one, or worth recommending. I often found myself conflicted, which, when on a short vacation isn’t necessarily a positive thing, but is something I embrace during these long escapades of adventure and reflection. I found myself full of both joy and disgust for what I saw and experienced in the middle of absolutely nowhere, geographically and on the moral compass as well.

Leaving Hook’s homestay, we completed the loop, stopping along the way to visit more waterfalls, farmhouses serving passionfruit jams and fresh coffee, passing village after village in between the green jungles of the surrounds, asking if the last week had really happened or if it was all just a strange dream.

With no real way of knowing, we shook our heads, laughed, and made our move to Vietnam…

Angkor Wat on Wheels

Some sights are worth repeating.

Four years removed from my last exploration of Angkor Wat, I found myself back at the staggering compound of ruined temples in Cambodia, this time trading the comfort of a tuk tuk for a questionably stable mountain bike as my mode of transportation through the maze of temple complexes and courtyards that make up the famous Angkor Wat.

After a 5am wake up call, we hopped on our bikes, flashlight in mouth, and made our way through the dark towards the back entrance of the postcard temple from which the complex gets its name. Having shared the sunrise with the hundreds of tourists that gather in front of the temple on my previous visit, we opted this time to escape the crowds and instead went to the backside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the first morning rays on the spires, rather than see the sun rise over the temple. As is often the case with sunrises, the hour or so we spent in wait was a bit anticlimactic, as the hazy skies gradually brightened, blocking the rays of the sun. No matter, we made our way inside the temple and began the exploration through narrow passageways and immense courtyards, past monks handing out blessings and the most intricate of carvings along seemingly every wall. Windows provided views of the vast surrounds, while staircases seemed to be hidden around every corner. If so many weren’t blocked off, it would not have taken long to be completely lost in it all.

The main temple of Angkor would be a sufficient sight in and of itself, but, thankfully for us, it’s just the beginning. The entire complex is enormous, covering over 400 acres and containing 70+ temple complexes and hundreds of smaller sites. The complexes were built by the Khmer people in the 12th century, and contain a mix of Buddhist and Hindu temples. When the temples were rediscovered in the 1860s, nature had run roughshod on the place for a few hundred years. What’s left is a mix of beautiful architecture ominously shrouded in horror-movie-esque root systems growing in, around, and on top of temple walls and rooftops. Cycling around the various complexes made for quite the day, but any fatigue was suppressed by the seemingly endless ruins to discover, often times all by ourselves. While the iconic scenes are quite the spectacle, particularly Ta Prohm (Tomb Raider Temple) and the many faces of Bayon, it’s the random bulbous root wrapped around an enormous rubble pile, or the small chamber with a beam of light shining through the hole in the roof that you stumble upon at just the right time of day that really makes Angkor Wat and its temples a joy to explore. Every visit will yield new scenes, every time of day a new shadow that accentuates the ongoing battle between man’s creations and mother nature. Making our way in and out of the city walls felt like we were storming some kind of ancient castle, with giant faces staring down at us as if to warn us not to enter lest we dare tempt our fates. Enter we did, however, perhaps with some chills, a product of some curse sent down from the ominous onlooker perched in stone above the gates.

Twelve hours in, we abandoned our two wheels and kicked our feet up in front of the main temple of Angkor again, basking in the afternoon air as golden hour had begun on the mighty temple’s spires. We watched tourists of all kinds begin to slowly scatter, leaving us alone to enjoy a peaceful end to an adventurous day discovering as many of the hidden and not so hidden secrets of a true marvel of both man and nature. Crossing back across the giant moat to make our way back into town, we walked down to the water, finding that the greenery we’d seen below was actually clovers. Peculiarly, every single clover was of the 4-leaf variety, which seemed quite fitting to find after months and months of experiencing so much of the very best this earth and its inhabitants have to offer.

Lucky us…  

Thailand Take Two

Walking the streets of Bangkok in the dark of night, surrounded by food carts and vendor stalls selling everything from elephant pants to cigarettes to male enhancement products, it felt like we’d been dropped into a different world if for no other reason than the fact that we were walking about in crowds of people long after the sun had gone down. After months in Africa of planning our evenings around ensuring we weren’t stuck somewhere after dark, it felt strange to be in amongst crowds and bright lights in every direction. It did not take long, however, to feel like we were right where we needed to be by means of our dinner selections. A fresh mango from the first cart, a spicy papaya salad served in a takeaway plastic bag at the next, and finally a noodle-y chicken and broth with fresh greens, crunchy onions, and more than a small kick of spice to cap things off. No Yelp, no blogs, no maps to guide the way, we simply followed our noses and the steam rising from cart after cart of Thai dining at its finest.

Having last visited Thailand in 2016, I immediately remembered why I enjoyed my time so much. Everything is just so…easy. Most all Thais are very friendly, laughing at both you and themselves in any and all circumstances. Anything you might need or want is always at your fingertips, be it food, drink, necessities, or luxuries. Anywhere you want to go is accessible via tuk tuk, bus, train, or plane, right from your doorstep, with little to no advance planning required. Any and all comforts of home can be had…for about a tenth of the normal price. At the cost of about a US dollar, you can find yourself a fresh squeezed juice, or some homemade coconut ice cream, served in a coconut, or perhaps just the coconut itself with a straw in it. Maybe you’re feeling a nice plate of tropical fruits, or a savory noodle soup. Better yet, how about a banana pancake for an afternoon pick-me-up? Whether you’re in a big city or a small town, nearly everything is accessible within a short stroll from the town center. Add to that the foot and back-bending body massages and you have yourself questioning what took so long to get here. Thailand has mastered the tourism industry, so, while many experiences may feel somewhat contrived or overrun with fellow travellers, you’re having such a great time that you don’t really care.

With the party scene of backpacker-central Khao San Road firmly in my rear view, we opted for some new experiences I hadn’t had the time for during my last retirement. The floating markets outside Bangkok have grown to be quite popular amongst tourists over the years, but arriving early enough provides a glimpse of the charm that made the market so popular in the first place. Large market stalls line the waterways, selling mostly the same things you can find all throughout Bangkok, while marketgoers and vendors alike ride through on canoes equipped with outboard motors that require significant maneuvering to avoid each other. We encountered orange-robed monks rowing their daily rounds to receive food or money from each vendor, in exchange for a small blessing to begin their day. Grandmas engulfed on their canoes by giant woks and all the necessary food supplies to serve up meal after meal from their floating restaurants. Ice cream, fried chicken, fruits galore, coconut pancakes, grilled bananas, elephant pants, live snakes, rare marsupials, you name it can be found beneath the rainbow umbrellas of the dozens of canoes jockeying for position in the narrow canals. By the time we’d finished our rounds, the market had become a madhouse of boats and tourists lining the canals. The market is overcrowded, loud, kitschy, overpriced (by Thai standards), and not exactly authentic anymore. But damn, is it fun. Every blog and travel guide will tell you how touristy and overrun the market is, and they are correct, but it’s touristy for a reason, and no amount of crowds can take away the experience of bartering for an exotic apple or bunch of bananas from a canoe, or trying to catch up to another boat to catch a glimpse of what smells so good, or yelling from the river’s edge for a serving of barbequed bananas with some sweet nectar after you’ve just finished devouring a bowl of savory, spicy, noodle-y goodness from a lady that’s probably been cooking the same thing from her canoe for the last 30 years. Sometimes things are touristy for a reason, and I felt no shame in imbibing.

From Bangkok, we headed north to Chiang Mai, escaping the chaos and busyness of the city for the Thai lifestyle both backpackers and soccer moms dream of. Seemingly every day of the week is the proud owner of a different walking street market, with local dishes, handmade ceramics, and a myriad of art pieces conveniently laid out along the traffic-free streets. Ornate temples and buddhas hide down alleys, while colorful flags and streamers are strung across the narrowest of streets. The walls of the old city protect the crowds from the busy streets and crazy motorbikes outside, enabling a peaceful stroll for the shopper or foodie or artist or writer or hedonist looking for his or her next inspiration. We found ourselves in a cooking class, whipping up curry pastes from scratch and washing it down with the sweetest of mango sticky rice. Apparently, the word spicy is interchangeable with sexy in Thai as our instructor enthusiastically urged us to make our dishes “More Sexy!” As is compulsory for any Southeast Asian adventure, we found ourselves riding a motorbike through countless hairpin turns along the Mae Hong Son loop, a 5-day journey spent meandering through the hills of northwest Thailand, with never-ending  views, waterfalls, small villages known for tea or coffee or nothing at all, and an air of freedom unique to these parts of the world. We slurped up night market Pad Thai noodles whilst shoeless on mats lining the shore of a lake, staring at the reflection of the temple complex across the water, after taking in the town and its surrounds from the temple atop the mountain while the sun burned reddish orange as it set behind the haze of burn season. We took detours to caves large enough to raft through in the pitch dark while koi fish surrounded our canoe waiting for their afternoon snack. The last stop on the motorbike adventure was Pai, a place filled with hippies, free-spirits, revelers, and pseudo-intellectuals. Pai is overrun by now, and lacks much of the oasis-vibe it held in years past, but, like the floating markets in Bangkok, once you get over the crowds and clichés, you really can’t help but enjoy yourself. Health and ayurvedic food concoctions, yoga and dance studios, nightly performers, night markets, and funky crafts line the streets behind makeshift gardens and open-air dining spaces, while a motorbike ride across the river brings you to waterfalls, elephants, rice fields, and sweeping views. It’s tough not to be high on life when you’ve spent your day lounging in a hammock overlooking a valley sipping on fresh ginger tea with a book and not a worry in the world, watching bandage-wrapped backpackers clumsily get on and off their motorbikes to partake in the fun. It’s easy to see why people stay too long, and even easier to tell who never got out. During one open-mic performance, we listened to an old man ramble for 20 minutes about a weed he’d found in the forest that cures everything from cancer to the flu to depression. Who needs science when you can have a slice of Pai instead?

After a quick detour to Chiang Rai to see the intricate white and blue temples, we hopped on a flight headed south to get back to the island life we’d been missing since Zanzibar. Life only gets easier once you reach Krabi, the section of Thai coastline home to hundreds of islands small and large, their limestone compositions forming monstrous looking shapes in the sea. We spent our first few days at Railay Beach, doing a whole lot of nothing aside from lounging on the beach or at the pool, sipping drinks while watching rock climbers scale cliffs below base jumpers launching themselves from the tops, or enjoying fresh coffee daily from a hut serving up smoothies and spliffs. The one dirt road through town is lined by makeshift structures selling the bare essentials and boat tours, and takes all of about 10 minutes to walk through. Sightseeing complete, nothing but relaxation with great views is on the agenda. We opted for one boat tour of the islands, prepared for another relaxing day and beautiful scenery before we realized we’d accidently joined the party boat, with blaring music, rooftop jumping, and plenty of revelry. When not distracted by the craziness and the sporadic rainstorm, we soaked up the scenery and secluded beaches, and maybe partook just a little bit in the sunset dance party. Back on shore, once darkness had fallen, we made our way along a cliff face to a secluded beach and immersed ourselves into an underwater world of phosphorescent plankton, glowing and dancing with every movement of our extremities. Figure 8s and swirls and slow-motion hand waving created a lightshow under the surface that rivaled any Star Wars jump to light speed scene you can imagine. Only a rising tide could end the rambunctious, yet astonished shallow water swimming session.

A few days on the beach proved not quite relaxing enough, as we made our way down the coast to Koh Lanta, a large island known for trading parties for even more low-key rest and relaxation. We opted for a bungalow atop a cliff overlooking a pristine stretch of sand, an ideal place for afternoon sunburn sessions. In between swims and clifftop foot massages, we found another motorbike to explore the rather large island, perusing the old town shops, beachfront cafes, and views of all sides of the island. Nights consisted of beachfront fire shows, and at least a couple hours spent at our favorite hammock-filled restaurant at the end of the block. With a 7-eleven and a good coffee shop within a 5-minute walk (or 30 second scooter ride), we had all that was needed to while away our days with coffee and coconuts.  

In looking through photos of our time in Thailand, I’ve realized it’s somewhat difficult to adequately capture the serenity of the scenes we found ourselves in, or the pleasure and silliness of interacting daily with the Thai people. Most difficult to capture, however, is not a sight or experience, but rather the feeling of complete freedom and content in an adventurous, yet agenda-less ramble that is travelling through this country.

I can’t wait to see what the third act has in store…