'A meeting in Chiang Mai that lingers longer'
I found myself on the terrace of a simple guesthouse in Chiang Mai, which at that very hour was enveloped in a soft languor. The evening hung over the city, as if it had resigned itself to its own disappearance. My coffee, lukewarm and just a little too sweet, was patiently waiting for an attention that had long escaped it.
Suddenly, a young man appeared next to me, setting down an impressively battered backpack next to him, as one sets down an old friend after a long, arduous journey. He had the tired but satisfied expression of someone who had just fought a fierce battle against public transport and won it brilliantly. Without hesitation, he ordered an iced coffee, a drink whose softly clinking ice cubes announced that his day's work was done for the time being.
“You're traveling?” I asked, although this was as obvious as the fact that we were in Thailand.
He laughed briefly, the cheerful laugh of someone who understands that sometimes the obvious must serve as an introduction to the essential conversation. “For about three months,” he answered lightly, as if it were a walk in Vondelpark. “Through Southeast Asia.”
He leaned back with that easy-going calm that comes from knowing that the world would care for him anyway, and ran his hand through his sun-bleached hair that must have eluded any attempt at order for months. On his arm, moreover, there was a tattoo, half healed, doubtless done in an obscure side street of Bangkok. What exactly was it supposed to represent? An elephant, a Buddha, or perhaps something that combined both, was hard to make out in the dim light of the falling evening.
“Why Thailand?” I asked next, not because I was curious about his reasons, but because such questions often yield answers that one could not have imagined on one’s own.
He shrugged and spread his hands. “Why not? Cheap, beautiful, easy travel. Northern Thailand appeals to me in particular. Less touristy, more adventure.”
“Adventure?” I asked, as if hearing the word for the first time.
He smiled again, this time more broadly, and took a thoughtful sip of coffee, as if it refreshed his memory. “Just yesterday I was hiking through the jungle, wading through rivers and coming to a village where the existence of Wi-Fi is probably still considered a fairy tale.” He rubbed his leg, as if reliving the muscle pain. “You sleep in a wooden hut, eat what the villagers eat, and hear stories that are not mentioned in any guidebook.”
I nodded. There was an undeniable charm in the simple and the unknown, a call that every traveler had to answer sooner or later.
“And Chiang Mai?” I continued. “Why are you hanging around here?”
He leaned back contentedly, looking up as if the answer hung in the stars. “The atmosphere, I think. You meet like-minded people everywhere, in hostels and cafes. Yesterday I was in a temple for a meditation course and a few hours later I was eating with a group of backpackers at a Khao Soi night market. It’s just… easy here. You arrive, stay longer than planned and then suddenly notice that it feels like home.”
I smiled, because he was right. Chiang Mai was one of those places where the days stretched into weeks without anyone noticing or objecting.
We drank our coffee in silence as the evening light slowly turned a darker orange and in the distance the monotonous chanting of monks sounded. My young table companion looked at it as if he wanted to carefully store this memory, to be able to open it later at home in a cold Netherlands and refresh himself once again in its warmth.
Suddenly he looked at me curiously and asked: “And you? Why are you here anyway?”
I paused, looking at the city, where one by one the lanterns came to life. Then answered, with the wonder of someone who only understands himself at that moment: “For exactly the same as you. Only I didn’t realize it until I was already here…”
About this blogger
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My age officially falls into the category of 'elderly'. I've been living in Thailand for 28 years - try to do that. The Netherlands used to be paradise, but it fell into disrepair. So I went looking for a new paradise and found Siam. Or was it the other way around and Siam found me? Either way, we were good-natured.
ICT provided a regular income, something you call 'work', but for me it was mainly a pastime. Writing, that's the real hobby. For Thailandblog I'm picking up that old love again, because after 15 years of hard work you deserve some reading material.
I started in Phuket, moved to Ubon Ratchathani, and after a stopover in Pattaya I now live somewhere in the north, in the middle of nature. Rest never rusts, I always say, and that turns out to be true. Here, surrounded by greenery, time seems to stand still, but fortunately life doesn't.
Eating, especially lots of it – that’s my passion. And what makes an evening complete? A good glass of whisky and a cigar. That’s about it, I think. Cheers!
Photos, I don't do that. I always look ugly in them, even though I know Brad Pitt pales in comparison. It must be the photographer, I think.
I am always pleasantly surprised by these kinds of stories, traveling is the most beautiful thing there is…and Chiang Mai also has a special place in my heart…despite that Smog