*Note: this is a bit of a long one….
Chiang Mai has changed a lot since 2004, when I last visited. The hotels are still there, marking the edge of the night bazaar, and the market is still a heaving mass each night, but the style of the city has changed.
Gone are most of the streetside pop-up bars, the bazaar has expanded to cover even more of the sidewalks, and the cheap temple tour scam has moved upmarket to included drivers with air-conditioned SUVs (as we found out, unfortunately). The hostels have quadrupled in price and dorms are now available – no more tiny, double-bed sized closets with a single bed and a patch of floor for 99 baht a night, that’s for sure! The number of cooking schools has multiplied by ten, the trinkets in the markets have changed according to new fads (but, much to my delight, my Papa’s old wooden frog that croaks when you run a wooden stick down its back can still be found there), and the menus now have an even more distinct Western influence.
But the roads still pulse with tuk tuks, the back alley sois still wind and weave past various surprises, and the city’s 300 temples still leave me in awe.
Our time in Chiang Mai was short – 3 nights, 2 days – so we packed a fair bit in. A cooking course at Baan Thai Cookery School proved to be both filling and hilarious. Multiple laps of various portions of the night market resulted in the purchase of, among other things, some new silver jewellery – spiral Karen silver hoop earrings etched with silver ferns, to remind me of treasured time on two continents – and, after much debate, a spectacular Kashmiri blanket. We were sad to have to pass on a remarkable, eerily life-like painting of two elephants, trunks intertwined, the colours a vibrant mix of primary and neon (measuring almost six feet by four, it was just too big) and I was heartbroken when I realized that we had left too late the visit to the shop selling striking selective-colour drawings of Chiang Mai streetscapes; it was closed when we went back to make our purchase. Long meandering strolls led us down quiet city streets and past temples, their roofs shining with gold. A grating “temple tour” took us to a series of made-for-rich-tourists factories – gems, carpets, silver and a silk “village” that was surprisingly interesting – and ended quickly at temple number two (out of an expected four or five) after it became clear that our guide would not be getting any further business from us. We were both aware of this scam, and we’ve taken advantage of it in Bangkok, but were in no mood for it this time.
On our final night, our packs were emptied, the contents strewn in organized chaos across the bed. Since we aren’t travelling back to Canada together, decisions needed to be made about who was taking what where. Old clothing was discarded to make room for new purchases; the feeling that the end was drawing near grew in direct proportion to the weight of my pack as it was refilled. We headed for the bus on our third morning knowing there was far more offered by the city, but the clock was ticking and we had to continue on our journey towards Bangkok.
Our next stop was Sukhothai, six hours by bus almost due south, and another city that has changed so much since my last visit that, were it not for distinct memories of meeting a new friend and travelling together to a beautiful guesthouse, I would swear I’d never set foot there before.
Sukhothai’s Old City is a World Heritage Site because of the temple ruins inside the old city walls. Massive, mostly-sensitive restorations have taken place in order to preserve dozens of temples, some of which are shockingly beautiful in the dawn light. Two early mornings allowed us plenty of time to enjoy the views of, among many others, the majestic Wat Mahathat, Wat Sa Si on its little island, and Wat Si Chum – a temple I’d unknowingly seen a beautiful photo of when in Chiang Mai. The unlabelled photo left me feeling disappointed that we’d never find that place, then we accidentally stumbled onto its threshold – imagine my pleasure.
Our second evening in Sukhthai was a treat and a fluke rolled into one. We had paid the entry fee for the central zone (three zones: central – most popular and impressive; northern – second most popular but smallest; western – least popular, most run down, but also most number of temples) that morning, so we decided to get our money’s worth by making the journey back out for sunset. Boy, were we glad we did. Rich is a bit of a die-hard romantic and loves watching a good sunset; I’m a bit of a die-hard tourist and love photographing a good sunset. While that usually means only one of us is ever truly happy with a good sunset (Rich inevitably ends up enjoying it on his own while I flit around with my camera), I think we both ended up happy after this one. Rich got some impressive shots of temples and the sun’s rays on his iPhone and I tinkered around with backlighting and silhouettes, as well as some HDR, since I brought a camera without a built-in flash. We had fun zipping between temples as the sun sunk ever lower on the horizon. As darkness set in, the spotlights came on and glances around the park showed Buddhas and stupas lighting the night. Wandering between chedis and exploring the shadows while listening to the chanted prayers of a visiting group of monks gave the experience a distinctly illicit feel. We headed for home with several wistful backwards glances, as I tried to take in everything and store it in my brain. We went back the following night but, whether due to it being Sunday or a holy day, there were no lights; we got lucky the day before when we decided on which temple group to pay the entry fee for.
Dining in Sukhothai was a bit like playing the lottery. There are an impressive number of street stalls and market vendors selling any number of dishes and snacks, from grilled meat, noodles and fruit, to octopus (bit of a mystery, since Sukhothai is nowhere near an ocean), Thai pancakes, and sometimes-a-mystery fried bits.
Our first jackpot was a market stall with fried corn cakes, served with a skewer and a little bag of sweet, spicy, vinegary sauce. Amazing – and familiar, since these little bites have often flown out of our London kitchen during dinner parties. We found a woman selling doughnuts and hot milk that reminded me of a favourite dessert from nine years ago in Hua Hin – ever so slightly sweetened dough served with a bag of steaming, sweetened coconut milk for dunking. We bought a bunch and tried them: plain-Jane cow’s milk and unsweetened dough. Boring. My first night’s main course was “chicken” laarp – very similar to the Laotian national dish of spicy ground meat, although I suspect this wasn’t chicken because of its dark brown colour. Fiery hot and… crunchy. Apparently, they minced the “chicken” quite thoroughly, bones and all. My stomach churned at every crunch and, after a few bites, I knew I couldn’t take any more.
Our second day in town and the afternoon temple visit led us to discover that there were a plethora of night vendors in the Old City as well. I was delighted to find giant versions of the crispy, sweet, marshmallow-centred tacos that I’d tried almost a decade earlier. The overwhelming sugar content made me smile and gave me a belly ache. I happy-danced my way through several skewers of grilled pork, mild smoky chillies, tomato and pineapple – so good we had more the next day and got waves on our way past the vendor on the occasions when we didn’t stop (which were seemingly few). We found tiny little semi-spherical fried cups like we’d loved in Luang Prabang, though the make-up of the batter is still something of a mystery; I suspect coconut milk, rice flour and possibly some condensed milk. This incarnation was more savoury than sweet, boasting the inclusion of chives in the batter. Rich was disappointed by the unexpected addition (they’re served with two halves put together to make an almost-sphere, meaning the contents aren’t visible); I was too busy eating.
Our meals also included Sukhothai noodles – slightly sweet peppery broth with noodles and, in my case, vegetables – for breakfast; a disgustingly rubbery piece of pork served in a heavily chillied sauce, making the whole bag inedible for me (Rich liked the sauce but the source of the pork mystified us both); some tasty pad Thai; an egg-noodle soup surprisingly reminiscent of broth-heavy kolo mee; and several plates of pad see ew, Rich’s new favourite dish made of fatter-than-fat rice noodles fried up with egg, chicken, spring onion and dark sauce.
Our mornings and evenings were spent at the temples and hunting for treats, but our afternoons were spent by the pool at a restaurant/guesthouse down the road or snoozing in our tiny air-conditioned bungalow. The midday heat was so strong that, even at four pm when we were on our motorbike and making our way back to the temples for sunset, the sun’s heat on my legs made me feel as though spontaneous combustion was a very real possibility. Weather reports said 46C. I believed them – and gave them credit for possible underestimations.
Our third morning started well before sunrise (two days in a row! aren’t we meant to sleep in while on holiday??) because we had to catch an early bus to Phitsanulok, where we caught the train to Bangkok – our final 30-hour stop before we start our journey home.
Grateful for: a resilient stomach; early morning light; haggling lessons from Dad on childhood trips to Mexico (the old “walk away” trick still works, Dad!)
