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Located in Northern Thailand, Chiang Mai is one of the cultural capitals of Thailand. Layed out as a fortified square in the Chinese tradition, the old city is crammed with an astounding number of temples. Today, Chang Mai is also the jumping off point for trekking expeditions and visits to ethnic minority tribes. However I’ve heard that if you’re not careful, the tribe visits tend to contrived exhibitions set up for the sake of tourist’s cameras and money. I was going to see for myself.

The bus from Bangkok to Chiang Mai was a sleeper, a first for me. Presumably because I bought my ticket from the government station and not through a guesthouse, all passengers except me were locals. After giving us all cold towels, a sickly sweet supper, and some cold water, the attendants turned on a Thai sitcom. The show was constantly punctuated with goofy sounds, such as boings and wazoos, to clue in the audience on appropriate times to laugh. The silly noises also allowed me some measure of entertainment by allowing me to indulge in my inner five-year old. Eventually it did turn off, and I dozed off in my seat.

The bus arrived in town at 4:30 am at a station placed several kilometres outside of the old walled city. So the first order of business at that early hour was to gather my bags and look for some transportation. I noticed the locals all piling into a songthaew, so I followed suit, to the severe disappointment of a tuk-tuk driver who had been persistently hounding me the moment I stepped off of the bus. But, as all the seats were full, I was forced to hang onto the back. Thus, my 5am introduction to the city was given while I held on tightly to the back of a songthaew with my ass swaying wildly back and forth at each turn.

The driver dropped me off at the Southern edge of the moat, waving his hand vaguely Northward by way of giving me directions on a place to stay. Walking up one of the main streets, I passed groups and individual monks collecting alms for the morning. I also fended off some dumb mutt that took offense to my backpacker appearance. I was very close to pegging the animal with a rock.

Based on the recommendation of fellow travellers, I already had a place in mind and easily found it. However, their front desk didn’t open until 9 am, so I crawled upstairs to the rooftop terrace for a 3 hour hammock nap. And so began my stay in Chiang Mai, one of the most pleasant, friendly, and beautiful cities I’ve stayed in.

After my epic nap I checked in and set out to explore the environs. Since the temples are a main attraction, they were my first order of business and I compiled a big list of ones to see.

Pearls of wisdom from a Chiang Mai wat.

Even though the first one was a short walk away, the diabolical heat absolutely drained me. And once I reached the place, I quickly realized that I was actually a bit sick of temple viewing, especially so soon after my wat-sight-seeing extravaganza in Bangkok. So I quit after my first one, and opted instead for a Swedish massage, performed by a blind masseuse no less!

Before I hit the hay, I booked a trekking tour to one of the hill tribe villages. Unfortunately, I only had time for a one day tour, ruling out a whole slew of amazing options. As far as the one-day-trek options went, I should have looked harder, as I limited myself to the options provided by my guesthouse. Many of them promised a visit to a plethora of different tribes in one day. Looking closer, these tours actually involved visiting a special village built by the government and populated by different villagers who moved there from their homeland due to the lure of tourist dollars.

I started to lose heart, but luckily one of the hostel employees was actually an ethnic Akha (one of the hill tribes in the region) and she told of one tour that actually goes to a real Akha village that’s been established for generations. Unfortunately it came with a whole slew of other activities outside of village trekking: rafting, elephant riding, and waterfall viewing. But, I shrugged my misgivings away and decided to just go with the flow.

The next day’s tour started off with elephant riding. Each elephant came equipped with a two person platform and a Thai driver. Before piling on, we were all given the option of purchasing banana bunches to feed our steeds. Whenever an elephant would want one, it would flip his trunk around and search the laps of his riders with his wet and gooey trunk. I have to say, elephant trunk breath stinks worse than your principal’s halitosis.

Lecherous elephant

The best part of the ride was watching the elephants obstinately refuse their orders. The Thai drivers would often have to resort to yelling, head smacks, and poking them behind the ears with hooks to get them moving. It didn’t help that many of my fellow tourists foolishly used up their bunches early on. This only seemed to escalate the creature’s stubbornness. Fortunately I kept a reserve to reward my elephant at the end of the ride.

Feeding my steed

My elephant pal looking for one last banana.

A short waterfall trek followed. Along the walk we passed by thatch villages whose occupants only seemed to scratch out a living. Since we were nearing the end of the hot season, the area was particularly dry, making the village settings seem very barren.

The waterfall with a Thai boy playing the foreground

Another waterfall shot.The kids were children of families selling water, snacks, and beer at the waterfall.

Once our group returned from the waterfall, we all squeezed onto a raft for a lackluster ride. The only cool bit of the raft ride came near the end, when we passed throngs of Thai tourists relaxing along the riverside. Entire families, consisting of three or four generations, set up picnics and parked themselves on the bank all day. It seemed like a wonderful family affair of eating, drinking, and chatting.

After that I got to try my hand at bamboo pole rafting. It was exhausting. All went well until I slipped into between bamboo beams, just saving myself from falling into the drink. Guess I should stick to my day job. Wait?! What day job?

Finally, after all that it was time to visit the Akha village. “This is going to be great!”, I thought. Soon after our guide gave us clear instructions before letting us out, “Five minutes, no more.” “What!”, I yelled.

And the village really was a normal functioning village. Almost everyone was dressed in normal gear, befitting a village too close to Chang Mai to retain its traditional clothes and too authentic to be geared entirely to tourism. The only people dressed in Akha clothes were three women on the roadside selling trinkets for the occasional tourist crew. Interestingly, thanks to the efforts of missionaries, the Akha are Catholic, something I learned when I noticed the village church.

In any event, our visit village was an entirely disappointing event, as I learned almost zilch about the people. Nonetheless, the day was fun, and really who can complain about that? However, proper village trekking would have to wait until Laos.

Since trekking was so on my mind, it was conveinent that my next stop was Laos. As a result, Chiang Mai capped off my month in Thailand. The city really is fantastic, and I did spend a lot of time just relaxing there. So for me, it was a perfect send-off to Thailand.

Akha village with church in the background.

Akha elder.

Some interesting side notes:

1. The main bar strip was go-go girl central. I even had to peel off one girl who tried to drag me inside her bar.

2. Luckily, Jon found a good bar square frequented by locals and tourists. However, it was plagued by little children (5 to 10!) trying to sell flowers to the drunks. Often refusal of the flowers brought a very aggressive reaction; throwing away your coaster, smacking you, or some other angry response. God knows how these kids will end up as adults, growing up selling wares to drunk and often condescending tourists at extreme hours of night.

3. On my way home one night, an older man asked me for help in French. Apparently, a prostitute he had procured had stolen all his money and money cards. He pleaded for 60 baht, a sum which would allow him to check into a dormitory to sleep. He didn’t fail to add that he was just a poor 63-year-old man. Although I couldn’t sympathize with the means to his plight, it was obvious he was in a bit of a bind. I gave him the money and wished him luck.