by Lucy & Axelle
Lucy:
Here, warm rain falls on quiet paths steadily throughout the days. At home in Northern California, we’re lucky if we get one rainy day a month. Here, cars, motorbikes, and pedestrians intermingle across the streets freely. At home, everyone follows orderly traffic rules, red lights, stop signs, crosswalks. Here, I feel the hours of my day blend into a whole, not rushing to complete the next task, settling into the flow of just existing where my feet lie.
Here, we’re always eating out–but not in the way we go to eat out at home. We’re going out to eat because that’s where you go to eat. It’s as simple as that. At home, eating out involves driving to the city or Telegraph Ave in Oakland or Berkeley, and spending $20 USD on a plate of salad and $10 on a mocktail. Here, we step outside Doodle and turn left to the road that borders the moat encircling Old City and are immediately sitting down at a restaurant. Food is consistently $3 USD for a plate of crispy pork and holy basil with a generous mound of white rice and a drink from the red cooler. The food tastes like the pan has been seasoned with the souls of past meals, rich and hearty, leaving our bellies aching from the blessing of being stuffed with good food.
At the same time, I love home for its diversity in food. On one street, I can find Burmese, Indian, Mexican, Chinese, Nepalese, and Ethiopian restaurants. Before coming to Thailand, I had to actively avoid Thai restaurants (there are so many…) to save my taste buds for when I got to the country. In this way, home has taught me the comfort in appreciating variety, difference, and delicious flavors. Maybe Chiang Mai is the same, with its plethora of vegan restaurants, smoothies and juices galore, massage places every other storefront, cafés, and the Grazie restaurant which actually serves Thai, not Italian food.
I think being here will deepen my appreciation for home in separating me from what I may have sometimes gotten too used to, like the temperate 65F days 365 days a year in the Bay Area. While the sticky humidity may leave my forehead dripping and hair constantly uncomfortably moist, it feels more and more like a comforting blanket, nourishing me in this new land.
Axelle:
I left Kigali for Boston, and it felt like going to an entirely new place with a different frequency. In Boston, life seemed to run on schedules and high precision; subway timetables, calendar reminders, and even coffee orders rushed. Being late by one minute felt like breaking a social contract. People move quickly, focused, often with headphones in. It is a place of structure, where social interactions feel more planned than spontaneous.
Then came Chiang Mai. What surprised me was not how it was very different from Boston, but how much it reminded me of home. In Kigali, everything is about community, conversations with moto drivers, greetings are so natural, and meals bring everyone together. I found this in Chiang Mai: the easy smiles of strangers, the warmth and messy markets, and the sense of closeness in every place.
Chiang Mai’s night market food reminds me of Kigali’s brochettes and endless Fanta varieties. Both are inexpensive, flavorful, and just give you the joy of eating. Even the streets in Chiang Mai, with its unpredictable sidewalks, remind me of Kigali’s late-night walks.
There is a lot of order in Boston; transactions are handled by machines, sometimes leaving little space for surprise. Kigali and Chiang Mai, on the other hand, make space for small human moments, bargaining in a market, and sharing a smile with a stranger.
Though I am far from Home (Rwanda), being in Chiang Mai, I find myself closer to its spirit than I ever expected.