Chiang Mai: The head of the river
My grand tour of Southeast Asia has officially begun, and with it, my first proper stop is Chiang Mai. I took a domestic flight from Bangkok with AirAsia and landed in this city within the hills just before sunset. I booked a Grab and got to my hostel just on the South Gate of the old town, as the market was setting up outside, and so took myself on a stroll down through crafts, clothes, cuisine and hagglers. Stopping off in a food court, I sat and listened to a live band whilst slurping on some rice noodles and chicken, and for the first time since getting my flight from London, took a deep sigh of relief.
Travelling solo is something I have always wanted to try, but never felt capable of, at least not for 7 months. And in my first few days away, I was starting to feel as though all of those worries may have been right. And yet, here I was, in Chiang Mai, this city on the other side of the world, and I immediately felt at home. It was like every anxiety I had was so kindly shown the door, it did not dare attempt to re enter for fear of appearing rude. And I thought to myself, this is the best decision I have ever made.
The city itself has a distinctly artsy vibe, which always draws me in. I stumbled upon a multipurpose arts centre called Kalm Village on my first full day and fell head over heals in love with the space. Three stories tall, the building housed various exhibitions, zen gardens, shops, a restaurant and even a library. On the rooftop, I watched as a class of yogis stretched their arms above their heads, as the sun set behind them. I thought to myself, am I in heaven?
In one of the exhibitions, I learnt about the ways in which craftsmanship is woven into the cultures of the northern Thai, Burmese and Indian peoples. In Nagaland, a region in northeast India, there are sixteen major tribes which were thought to have migrated from Southeast Asia and have managed to preserve their distinct identities, in part through their use of craft and creativity as modes of aesthetic storytelling. As I swayed through the exhibition, familiar patterns, forms and shapes jumped out at me. Cloth and weaving techniques you can find even at home, and all over Chiang Mai. Colours which both entice and calm. The exhibition was right, the whole world knows of the Naga peoples stories, even if they do not realise it.
Meandering the streets of the city, you are delighted with craft shops, interspersed with unique cafes, temples, spas advertising Thai massage, and ruins of the old city walls. The old town sits within a square, encased by a canal on each side. On the north side, a popular jazz bar called Northgate Jazz Cooperative spills music, people and Chang beers out onto the street each night. One of many live music venues, this one in particular requires arriving an hour and a half before the band comes on in order to grab a seat.
In the hills surrounding Chiang Mai you can find rice fields, rivers, organic farms and more temples. I took a few trips out to attend a local cooking class, and an ethical elephant sanctuary, and was mesmerised by the views over the hills. Everything felt so calm. No one rushed. No one stressed. The air hung with a freshness around you, and if you did not move, you could believe everything was still.
On my last day, I hiked up to a meditation sanctuary and sat on the rocks at the headwaters of a river flowing down into the city below. Surrounding me were temples, statues, and bridges ordained with Buddhas as well ornate animal animal statues, and below me sat the sprawling city of Chiang Mai. I couldn’t help but wonder what of all this might have looked like 100 years ago, when the view below was not dominated by skyscrapers, but instead ran green for miles in the distance. It was still incredibly beautiful though, still peaceful. A pink haze filed the sky and it occurred to me just how fitting it was to have a meditation retreat here. Not just because it was it was away from the city below, but because it was a beginning. The beginning of a flow into the unknown, a trickle of a stream trusting its journey towards an ocean, something small which will one day become something very big indeed. That feels awfully meditative to me. And funnily enough, it felt oddly emblematic of what I think I have to come myself.
