Where I [Vorleak] call home is situated close to the equator line, leaning more towards the Southeast of Asia, to name Cambodia. Home for me [Michela] is 20 miles north of Boston in Massachusetts suburbia. For me [Amos], from Narok, Kenya, the beauty of a place lies in how comfortable you are in it.
Chiang Mai is new to us, not so familiar as our hometowns and home countries, but so many of the sights and smells we interact with bring us back.
For me, [Michela], it is the plants along all the streets we wander through—the purple ones I grow in my living room, ivy growing up different restaurant fronts, bamboo shoots along the side of our program house. It’s being in the kitchen in the mornings, prepping breakfasts with each other and doing the dishes, and sharing meals at a big table which always has leftovers. We are less than a week in, but the language is already beginning to sound familiar—we greet & thank people without stumbling over our words.
For me, [Vorleak], Chiang Mai has reminded me of home through the good mornings and good nights I say to people whenever I enter or exit my room. It’s the smiles on the faces of my peers and instructors I see first thing in the morning that remind me of my parents and siblings. Being able to be in the kitchen and using the condiments we’ve picked up at the markets that smell exactly like home transport me back in ways I could not have imagined.
For me, [Amos], stepping into the program house for the first time, I was scared with how the future would unfold, but still held onto the hope of making worthwhile connections with my peers and finding comfort around them. Looking back a week later, I feel like it’s more than what I expected. I am very much appreciative of every single little moment we have with one another, because every day is a step closer to finding our nirvana.
No matter where our origins lie, we are creating new homes every day. So grateful to be here with these people in this place at this time. We look forward to our many tomorrows.
On Tuesday, September 3rd at around 7pm, I stepped foot for the first time in a Thai market. Instantly overwhelmed by the colors and smells we stopped to look around and admire. There was chaos yet peace. Fresh fruit, raw fish, woven textiles, spices surrounded us, tables filled to the brim with food and clothes, yet everything was organized. Cumin, pepper, chili powder, turmeric, mustard seed, ginger, all compressed into neat little plastic squares. Ceramic baby elephants lined up, each with different vibrant colors and details. Rows of dragonfruit and mangostine surrounded us. While there was chaos, it was natural chaos, it felt as though people fit into their place at the market, tourists admiring, vendors selling and locals bargaining. Days later, in our Southeast Asian course, we read an article which allowed us to learn about the importance of the sense of taste and smell yet also the way these senses are ignored. When I made my way back to the market, I appreciated the smells, I took them in with acceptance and respect.
Nelson Chen: Dragonfruits, burning incense, and tropical rain
From the hints of seaweed and marine life that drift in from Boston Harbor Sea Port to the invigorating aroma of freshly sliced dragonfruits and the smell of burning incense combined with the earthly petrichor that lingers after a sudden tropical rain, I felt a symphony of scents unfold through the bustling markets of Chiang Mai. After a 22-hour long flight from the Boston Logan Airport to Chiang Mai International Airport, I was finally here. (This felt so surreal!). I’ve only read and seen small clips of this place on my TikTok For You Page, probably because of my browsing history filled with unhinged searches like “fun things to do in Chiang Mai,” “Chiang Mai night markets,” and obviously, “must try foods in Chiang Mai.” But absolutely no video clip could have ever captured the depth of the moment I was in. Here, I knew the experiences were much more vivid and much more alive. The market was like a breathing canvas, painted with the essence of Thai locals alongside their stories and relentless energy that thrived on the convergence of cultures and religions. At that moment, I realized that I wasn’t just walking through a market––I was walking through what I would be calling home for the next three months.
To my friends, family, and loved ones back home, I can’t wait to spend countless number of hours sharing my experiences and stories with you guys! Our adventures are just beginning!
Liam Ferguson
I had only ever been to farmer’s markets. I had only ever really been to farmer’s markets in Memphis before coming to Chiang Mai, and that was kind of what I expected. The farmer’s market I would usually go to back home was run only during the summers, and was set up in a parking lot downtown. For the most part, though, I enjoyed going there. There were people selling fruits and vegetables, as well as those who called themselves “less traditional farmers” selling handmade jewelry, and even honey farmers who would give you as many free samples as you wanted. It was somewhere that I had memories of visiting as a kid, and a place I always saw as a source of joy. So when we went to visit the local market in Chiang Mai on our third day, I (sort of naively) expected something similar to the farmer’s market I was familiar with back home. This was not the case. When walking towards the market, I didn’t really see it coming. I just turned a corner, and then I was just sort of… in it. Looking around me, I was a little confused for a second. Then I realized. This was ALL the market. It looked like it stretched for miles. Endless numbers of stalls selling everything you could possibly want. There were stalls selling clothes, coffees, juices squeezed right in front of you, foods better than what you could find at any restaurant, and a wider variety of fruits than I had seen in any supermarket. But the most noticeable detail about the market was the smell. It was almost like there was an invisible barrier protecting the market’s smell from escaping into the rest of the world. As soon as you walked in, you were immediately hit with the smell of meat being freshly grilled, fruits you didn’t even know existed, and the Thai phenomenon called “Tiger Balm”, which can be used to cure pretty much anything. In our History of Southeast Asia class, we talked about how the culture of smell impacts southeast Asia, and how this differs from the western world, where smell is relatively unimportant. With this in mind, I can look back on our trip to the market and recognize that the market’s scent created a feeling of adventure and curiosity to explore. This feeling I think encapsulated not only our motivation to spend hours roaming the market in search of nothing in particular, but will encapsulate our experience and exploration of Thailand as a whole.
The vivid Chiang Mai city welcomed us with its warmth; both from its people and temperature (especially its humidity). No matter where we walk, as soon as we step out of the house, it is sweat-galore. Between signing up to for gym, walking 15,000 steps a day and the amount of water we drink, there is no way that the freshman fifteen will get to us. We wouldn’t have it any other way!
The food. We could write a love letter just about the amazing, incredible food we’ve had so far. From Pad Thai to Pad See Ew and many others, our cohort are delighted by the food. As we walk to get lunch or dinner, at the house or out and about, we have one certainty: it’s gonna be bangin!
You can always count on Chiang Mai to surprise you everyday, be it with beautiful architecture, the cute little cafes (they are everyone!) or the unpredictable traffic – we can’t wait to see what the next coming week holds for us. How the weather is gonna change, all the new dishes we will try, the people we will meet and the new sites we will see.
There’s a certain feeling, a certain ache that comes with Change. It hits at milestones: one week before, knowing that this is the last Monday that your life will exist the way it stands in front of you today. The moment you realize that you only have two more weekend days to sit with the version of yourself that exists on this warm Saturday afternoon. 24 hours before the Change, realizing you will only lay your head on this pillow once more, praying you dream of the exact day that you had—maybe you can extend this reality for eight hours more. The final wave hits you as you watch the landscape change beneath you from the sunlit plane window.
Six months ago, I would’ve told you that this feeling is dreadful, terrifying, sad. I would’ve asked you how it’s possible to leave so much of myself, so much of what I know to be true, just to spend my time rebuilding exactly what I have now. Friendships, comfort, love.
A few weeks ago, I celebrated my first birthday away from my family in all 19 years of my life. However, even thousands of miles from home, I had felt as loved as ever—loved by my cohort, loved by my host family, loved through the texts and calls by my family and friends at home, loved by the new place I called home.
On November 10th, my alarm went off at 7:15 am, and on the rare occasion, I didn’t hit the snooze button. I felt wide awake with nervous excitement as the breeze floated into my room. I walked down the balcony to the kitchen where all my nerves immediately melted away. My two little brothers cried “¡Feliz cumpleaños!”, and my host parents embraced me in a hug.
After my day with Zhiyi at our volunteer placement, I walked home—happy but also a little tired after spending hours with little kids and reading “Franklin” at least four times. At the door, my 6-year-old brother Gabriel urgently stopped me from looking out the window to our yard where my family was blowing up gold balloons for the party with my cohort. It was such a surprise and lovely gesture.
One of the first activities we did over Zoom (before we met in person) was to go around and say our favorite artists or songs. As soon as we met up on campus we made a shared playlist where we added anything and everything we were into. Since then, there has rarely been a moment without a carefully curated soundtrack.
“peru! 🦙💓🏔” is over six hours long, with 110 songs switching randomly from indie folk to high-energy Spanish pop to billboard top ten to French ballads. I love it, and it has ruined my Spotify Wrapped.
There are too many moments with music to write about them all (I finished this entire yak only to realize that I had forgotten Ligia teaching us to dance in her living room, karaoke, and having our very own at-home discoteca!), but here are some of my favorites.
