This post originally appeard on Frontier Psychiatrist January 27th, 2014.
Before going to Thailand for three weeks in December and January I made an appointment at a travel clinic at a hospital in Chicago to receive shots. The nurse recommended I get about five thousand different shots plus malaria pills and handed me a doorstop of an amount of papers about mosquitoes, diseases and disease prevention, and various other safety concerns. When it was revealed that I had made the appointment too late to receive a shot to prevent Japanese Encephalitis, the nurse affected a tone and look of equal parts anger and disappointment. She made it sound as if people dropped dead from malaria as soon as they stepped off the plane at Suvarnabhumi International. She was convinced, and almost had me convinced, I would not make it back home alive. And for what? Just to eat some really good Pad Thai?
As always when I travel, I am inevitably asked why I choose where I go. Generally, my reasons are to see friends who have moved away (as was the case in Beijing and SaoPaolo). When their work or financial restrictions don’t allow them to come back to Chicago, I see travel as an opportunity to combine the familiarity of banter with my friends with excitement of exploring a different part of the world.
Two of my good friends run a tour company called Off The Path Travel. We all grew up in the same suburb of Chicago, but Alex has since moved out to live in Chiang Mai, the largest city in northern Thailand, (his brother Justin and I share a zip code in Chicago). So for two weeks, the three of us plus four more traveled non-stop around the country, while I took an extra week afterwards to explore Chiang Mai.
As their name implies, OTP is interested in the lesser known, as well as ethical and responsible ways of traveling. Alex has years of experience giving tours for other companies and schools (he is currently leading a village studies tour and are on their way to India). He’s mentioned that a previous employer company (which inadvertently and serendipitously inspired the creation of OTP) involved tour guides who would give clients drugs, or led tours only in order to sleep with clients. Maybe not a bad gig for some, but nothing that actually shows appreciation for Thailand’s history and culture. So while you can visit this country of 67 million people just to get blitzed at the monthly Full Moon Party, exploit endangered animals, explore sex tourism, and commit acts of general depravity, I experienced not one of these things. What did you think this was, a Vice article?
In a two week span, we moved between Bangkok, a farm in Kanchanaburi province, Chiang Mai, Fang, and Chiang Rai, using private and public buses, overnight trains and subways, pickup trucks and motorbikes, tuk-tuks and two-rowed, communal taxis called songthaews. By design, we spent very little time in Bangkok, using the sprawling metropolis only as a convenient hub to get to lesser known “off the path” places.
Undoubtedly, Thailand is full of natural wonders and the dry season of January was the perfect time of year to experience it. For three straight weeks, the sun constantly illuminated the 80 degree days, yet the nights were refreshingly cool. Not a single drop of rain fell and rarely was it even overcast or more than partly cloudy. In Kanchanaburi province there is a cave that is generally closed off to tourists that we were guided through. As we climbed down a wire-rope “ladder,” and through various levels of water (only waist high at most), navigating the slippery clay surfaces with better balance than I had expected, our guide had to check his lantern occasionally to confirm there was enough oxygen for us to continue. With an ever increasing number of bats flying overhead and among our group of nine (plus one dog), we trekked approximately a kilometer deep until we came across the waterfall inside the cave. While at times claustrophobic, the experience was gratifying to see something witnessed by so few eyes.
More caves exist in the north of the country as well. In Chiang Dao are two temples that situate themselves in the mountainsides, one inside a cave itself. The temples around the country are as ubiquitous as they are varied. Wat Doi Sutep overlooks the city of Chiang Mai and Wat Pho in Bangkok is home to the world-famous reclining Buddha. But perhaps the most interesting temple we went to was the Wat Rhong Kun, or the White Temple, in Chiang Rai. Aesthetically, the white facade and surrounding moat was much different than any other temples we saw, as well as its stark depictions of hell that are rarely found in Buddhist culture. It was also the only temple we went to where visitors exit through a different path instead of where they enter. The temple was designed in 1997, and the contemporary look of the exterior is reinforced in the interior: the walls inside depict images of modern mythologies (Superman, Star Wars, Neo from the Matrix, Freddy Kreuger, Angry Birds) as well as more traditional Buddhist paintings.
Beyond the natural wonders and Buddhist temples, Thailand’s biggest draw is definitely the food. From grilled chicken on a cart on the side of a road in Doi Saket, to the seemingly innocuous yet full flavored restaurants of Chiang Mai, to the fine dining mecca Nahm in a ritzy part of Bangkok’s Sathon district, Thai food is varied in flavor and spice, history and texture. Yes, even the Pad Thai is delicious and it’s not impossible to find a decent burger or Western style breakfast for when you really need the tastes of home. The best surprises for me were a pair of restaurants in Chiang Mai, Dara and the Swan, the former serving delicious and unique dishes from Vietnam (crispy fermented pork, DIY spring rolls, snakefish with mango salad), the latter a Burmese restaurant, every dish full of flavor, with the perfect level of spice, a reprieve from some of the eye-watering Thai dishes I’d had.
But for me, the most rewarding culinary experience was our New Year’s feast on a farm in Kanchanaburi. We stayed there for three days, in bungalows that were home to stick bugs, leaf bugs, and daddy-long-legs. The matriarch of the farm not only cooked consistently great food, but even let us help on New Year’s Eve. Even though most of my help was essentially just stirring a boiling wok of panang curry, I felt extreme gratitude to be allowed into this kitchen. I was reminded of when I first started watching Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations, and why I became curious to travel in the first place. I took notes from him about open-mindedness and being appreciative and culturally sensitive. I saw how well it paid off, to be allowed to experience these intimate moments, that while a fine dining restaurant will undoubtedly be worth the price, being allowed into the home and hospitality of people that are full of life and love, is a value beyond price. This is what made that tiny farm, in one of the absolute farthest places possible from where I live and grew up, the most incredible experience of the whole three weeks. Not to mention the coma-inducing fried chicken.
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