Northern Thailand

I’m slowly learning how to travel. You’d think after over 18 months of cumulatively being out of the country I would have it dialed, but the truth is, finding a fulfilling way to travel is more difficult than you’d think. At least for me.

I’ve found that general sightseeing and moving around several parts of the country is great in theory but often stressful in practice. You’re able to see a lot of the country but you only scratch the surface of each place and it’s hard to experience much culture when you spend just a few days in a place. And with such a big backpack it’s pretty annoying to be constantly packing it up and moving it around. I’ve found that activities are the best way for me to travel. Climbing or surfing helps me structure my day and give my trip purpose and meaning. And by staying in one place for a week or more you start to understand it better and you start making more meaningful connections with locals working at the restaurants and hotels you frequent.

In Tonsai I became friendly with the woman who ran my favorite restaurant in town, Sao Legacy. She would wake up every morning at 4:30 to start preparing food and would go to bed around midnight. She loves cooking and it shows through the food she makes—it was the best food I had in Thailand. I learned that one of the young guys who worked at the guesthouse I was staying at dropped out of school to work there in order to support his parents. A common story, but a tough one nonetheless.

I landed in Chiang Mai in northern Thailand in the evening and found a cheap shared taxi so seamlessly that I felt like a local. I spent two days in Chiang Mai and visited enough “wats” or temples for a lifetime. In case you wanted more ironies about Buddhism being embraced by the American left as a great religion, here’s another one:

I’ve always been a firm believer in the fact that menstruation causes social instability.

I decided to listen to what everyone on my trip has told me about northern Thailand: “You’ve gotta go to Pai.” The fact that so many people told me to go made me not want to go. It sounded like a small, authentic Thai town that was discovered by hippies who forced out all the locals and turned it into a haven for tourists to eat pizza and drink beer. But I figured I should see it for myself.

Pai is a small town about 3 hours and 762 hairpin turns north of Chiang Mai. People regularly get sick on the bus, but luckily not on mine. My first night in Pai confirmed my fears. The “walking street” is filled with vendors selling mediocre food and tourists absolutely everywhere. The only shops are bars, restaurants and motorbike rentals. Sometimes you should go with your gut.

But there are some things that make Pai appealing even to a misanthrope like myself. There are a number of local Thai restaurants serving local specialties such as Khao Soi: a curry with soft and crunchy noodles, only found in the north. There are many hot springs, waterfalls and caves to explore, and because there aren’t many people there, it’s an ideal place to learn how to ride a scooter/motorbike.

There is also a well known Muay Thai gym 5 miles north of Pai known as Sit Je Mam Muay Thai. Muay Thai, or Thai boxing, is the official sport of Thailand, and it is well respected in the mixed martial arts community (which is really saying something). It’s referred to as “the art of eight limbs,” meaning that unlike regular kickboxing which incorporates punching and kicking (aka four limbs), Muay Thai goes one step further and allows elbows and knees (though I do have a preference for Lethwei, aka Burmese boxing, which incorporates a ninth weapon: the head). Thai fighters often have upwards of 200-300 fights. Most start training as children and begin fighting competitively by the age of 12. I didn’t expect to do any Muay Thai while in Thailand, but after years of martial arts including Muay Thai, I felt the pull. When I saw that they sparred once a week, the very next day, I was sold.

Sit Je Mam Muay Thai has a stable of Thai and foreign fighters, along with a number of people who drop in for a month or a day to train and try the sport. It felt weird to be on the other side for once; someone who didn’t have loads of experience and who was only there for one day. It was always a dream of mine while I was fighting to go to Thailand and live and train there. But I was worried that my experience would be tailored to tourists and ruin the dream I had in my head.

That morning I woke up early and rode the brakeless bicycle from the hostel to ride the 5 miles out to the gym. When Ma, the head trainer (a badass Thai former female fighter) asked me if I was a beginner I said no. She looked at me dubiously. “We’ll see” she said with a smirk. During the shadow boxing she seemed to be really critiquing my form and I was convinced that she thought of me as a beginner—I didn’t want to be taught the basics.

After watching and critiquing me, Ma threw me in with the intermediate students, to my great relief. I hit pads with a trainer and worked partner drills with some of the guys who had been there for months. After 2.5 hard hours of training we had a few hours off before the afternoon session and sparring. I told Ma I wanted to spar and she gave me a look that instantly eroded my confidence. “Should I not?” I asked. “No, no, you spar. Just buy mouthguard.”

All afternoon I thought about that look Ma gave me. It was a mixture of comical doubt and genuine worry that made me wrack my brain for reasons why I shouldn’t return. The last time I sparred I broke my nose. A few times before that I got a concussion. I was rusty, after 6 years of no martial arts. Sparring was what used to give me butterflies the hour before I left for the gym, every single time I trained, without fail, up to the very last day. I told myself I would never spar again. And here I was about to do it again. I bought a mouth guard, boiled it and bit it so it molded to my teeth.

I felt pretty good for the second session. I was excited, not nervous as I peddaled my poor bike back to the gym. For once I could enjoy sparring; no pressure, no expectations, just fun. Way different from before. I was in my element, my former happy place, trading shots with guys from the gym, both Thai and foreign. I got a bruise the size of an apple on my forearm from blocking a headkick and a bruise on my shin from getting one blocked. I was exhausted and a little beat up along with everyone else. It was bliss.

I didn’t want to leave, but Muay Thai is not my life anymore. Ma even offered to have me stay the night for free but I turned it down. This was a one day fling.

There’s a feeling you get when you are sore because you’ve been in a fight. It’s like a secret that no one else is aware of. Fighting, like climbing, turns the volume down on life. When you’ve been through the stress facing another man in a ring or climbing high above your last piece of protection and facing a big fall, you tune in similar to a woman lifting a car off her child. You access a part of yourself that you can’t otherwise access; a focus like none other.

Sit Je Mam Muay Thai gym.

The next day, coming off the high of my day of Muay Thai, I decided it time to learn how to ride a motorbike. A common form of transportation in Europe and Asia, we Americans aren’t really used to riding that fast on two wheels. I was initially planning to rent one in Chiang Mai, but after seeing the traffic and the horrified look my hostel owner gave me, I decided to try it out in Pai where the cars are few and the people are chill. I rented one from Aya rentals, which offers a free class. For $3 you can rent a 100cc motorbike for 24 hours.

My lesson consisted of a tutorial on how to start the engine. He showed me the accelerator and that was it. Fearfully, I took off through town. It took me a half hour to go 12 miles on the highway. I got passed by everyone, families of four, 14 year old girls, 90 year old men. But I made it to the hot springs!

My baby. I felt like a badass until I remembered the magenta color and weird comic book stickers.

When I got back on the bike I felt way more comfortable. After never going above 40 kph on the way there, I was cruising at 75 kph on the way back. It was fun. Like really fun. I decided to go to the Tham Lod cave about 30 miles north of Pai, a couple miles shy of the Burmese border. It’s an incredibly windy route and by the end of the trip I was leaning into the curves feeling like a pro. Although I did pull over to let a couple twenty-something European girls pass me since I could feel my pride telling me to speed up.

Tham Lod cave is about a mile deep and up to 60 feet tall in parts. You have to hire a local guide to enter the cave, mostly women. My guide spoke very little English, merely pointing at rock features saying things like “look like curtain” and “look like snake” and my personal favorite, “look like booby.”

The entrance of Tham Lod cave.

Look like booby.

After the cave I caught sunset at the canyon with a guy from the gym. A far cry from the Grand Canyon, Pai Canyon is a nice little natural area with about a miles worth of trails to walk on. Sunset was pretty, bolstered by the smoke from illegal fires burning on farmers fields as they prepare for next season’s crops.

Sunset over Pai Canyon.

The next day I reluctantly returned my motorbike and took the bus to Chiang Mai. Being my last night in Thailand I needed a few more authentic Thai experiences. I signed up for a 5 hour cooking class on an organic farm outside of town and learned how to make green curry, basil chicken stir fry, spring rolls and more. I love cooking Thai food and have gotten away from it the past couple years. Being Valentine’s Day I decided to try and soak up as much info as I could (the cookbook should help too) so I can replicate it for Sierra one night when I return.

Green curry and coconut soup. Easy to make when all the ingredients are chopped up and someone tells you when to add what.

After the cooking class I bought a ticket for some Muay Thai fights in town. I had yet to go to any fights so here was my chance. I went to the Thaphae Boxing Stadium. Seeing a 13 year old boy get brutally knocked out right in front of me seemed be in direct contrast of learning how to make curry on an organic farm an hour earlier. Nothing that some local whiskey wouldn’t fix.

Brain damage in action!

Seeing fights in person is typically pretty brutal. On TV it seems glamorous but in person, especially without a high production value, it can be quite a gritty affair. I went to a teammate’s fight in Wisconsin and the leathery woman in front of me stood up and yelled in a raspy voice, “I want to see you bleed!” Yikes. At some other teammates’ fights in California I was in the locker room for some celebrating in one instance and some crying and bleeding in another.

Here at Thaphae Boxing Stadium the feeling was similar. The first several fights were young kids under 18. Brain damage is real, especially at such a young age. And with 200-300+ fights for some of these fighters, their forecasted brain health looks cloudy at best.

But in my opinion, this is a pretty good life. The fighters are surrounded by friends and doing what they love (hopefully). Life expectancy in Thailand isn’t particularly high anyway and I think being a fighter seems like a way better life than selling mangos on the side of the road. Just sayin’.

The next day I flew to Nakhon Phanom, a Thai town on the Thailand-Laos border and officially crossed into Laos. It was finally time to climb again.