Crossing back over into Thailand, after a month and a half in Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos, I was immediately struck by how developed it all felt. Roads with lines. Orderly traffic. Stop lights that were actually abided by. Cafes lined streets, offering more than just rice curries and fake pizza. Sitting in a western café that could have easily been back on the Hermosa pier, looking across the table and out into the street filled with westerners, I had a slight bit of culture shock. Feelings and confusion usually reserved for the first day or two after returning home from a long trip were flooding my mind. My understanding of familiarity and the western world has clearly been skewed, as I imagine that if I’d shown up in Chiang Mai 2 or 3 months ago I’d have been wowed by how different and foreign everything felt. It made me feel quite anxious about returning home, if this little taste of western culture in the southeast was having such an effect.
Chiang Mai is a university city in the north of Thailand. Extravagant, golden pagodas, great (and cheap) food, and a buzzing nightlife characterize a city that has been called home by many an ex-pat. Aside from the slight bit of culture shock, I was elated to be back in Thailand. Delicious food, even better massages, reliable wi-fi, paved roads, and unbeatable hospitality make travelling in Thailand a breeze. Hopping back on a motorbike, I ventured up the mountain to the Doi Suthep temple, surprised to see just how sprawling Chiang Mai was, as the old city, self-contained within a surrounding moat, made it feel like nothing more than a small town. A 30-minute ride outside the city lies the “Grand Canyon” of Chiang Mai, a former mining area filled with water and tourists making the 30-foot leap into the cool water below. A great way to cool off from the sweltering heat, and not be bothered by the afternoon downpours I’ve become used to by now.
After a few days in Chiang Mai, I made my way up to Pai, a hippie mountain town about 3 hours by scooter away from the city. The drive was freeing, with the mountain air gradually cooling more and more the further I climbed into the mountains. Locally grown coffee shops tucked in the hills serve as perfect respites from the steep, windy drive. Arriving in Pai, I had nothing on my agenda. Nobody does really, as the only necessary activities are to eat good food, enjoy relaxing drinks, and chat with good company. I splurged (read: spent 10 dollars) on a private bungalow situated on a hill above the city, enjoying my deck, hammock and all, listening to the mountain sounds and enjoying the ability to do nothing at all. A short scooter ride in the surrounding areas leads to hot springs, treehouses, elephants, Buddhas, and waterfalls. The main streets in town have their share of western comforts with a Thai twist, with every café or restaurant guaranteed to contain at least one westerner that came to Pai and never left.
I allowed my mind to wander a bit, reflecting on the entirety of my trip, the people that have so heavily influenced it, and whether or not I was ready to come home. I reached a frame of mind that can often be very difficult to capture: both the excitement of what was to come in my travels, as well as the eagerness to be going home. It’s the feeling of playing with house money. I feel no pressure to see more, to experience something new, to gain some enlightening new perspective. I am perfectly content with what I’ve lived, regardless of what the next few weeks and countries hold, which I am sure will be unique in their own right.
With this zen-like feeling, I booked my flight home. I’m not quite ready to share the when and the where, though, as I believe plans should always have a little wiggle room for an unanticipated change of heart…