by Avery & Brandy
Upon our arrival into Chiang Mai, the first word that popped into my head was familiar. Everything I laid eyes upon was alien and new, but evoked a sense of nostalgia and gave me the impression of home. Have I been here before? Was I a resident of Huai Lan in my previous life? That’s not quite the case.
See, because I have relatives in Malaysia, a mere 3 hour flight from Chiang Mai, I’ve spent a lot of time in the past snooping around the pasar malam, eating street food, and romping around the country. That’s why even though I had never been here before, stepping through those doors at the airport felt like stepping into a second skin. The hot and muggy air, the messy and chaotic traffic, the hawkers selling street food, all of it felt familiar and yet different at the same time.
Chiang Mai is not Kuala Lumpur. Even as I appreciated the similarities, such as in the way the air clings to your skin and soaks into your clothes or the sight of what feels like 100 mopeds darting through traffic, I was immediately drawn to the differences. Things like the unfamiliar script scrawled on all the traffic signs and store fronts, the food which tastes sweeter and burns with a different intensity, the trees that have grown into the buildings and are an inseparable part of their construction, not to mention the language which feels lighter and has a softer lilt, though admittedly is equally incomprehensible to me. And it is these differences which fill me with a sense of euphoria.
The reason I chose to come to Thailand isn’t because it is the same as Malaysia but because it is different. I came to Chiang Mai with the goal of devouring this city whole. I intend to walk until my boots crumble to dust, eat until I am a complete sphere, study until my eyes bleed, and (attempt to) pet every single cat I see. While the similarities to Malaysia are nice to see and help with my transition to this brand new environment, there is nothing more boring than a well worn path and it is what I don’t know that truly excites me.
We will be spending 3 months here in Thailand, half of which will be in Chiang Mai, and half will be with our foster families in Huai Lan. In this time we will have the once in the lifetime opportunity of completely immersing ourselves in a new environment at our own pace and without any urgency. I am incredibly excited to study the Thai language and culture as well as to live with my host family and take a glimpse into what it is like to live as a resident of Huai Lan.
By the end of this trip, I hope to have familiarized myself with even a fraction of the rich and storied culture of this country.
The ocean of the unfamiliar stretches far beyond the eye can see. And nothing pleases me more than the thought of diving right in.
Cheers,
Avery
It’s strange how first impressions can weave together a threshold between truth and falsehood.
Understanding isn’t like a wave that emerges you and your friend into cold, salty water before you’re ready to be cold or wet.
It isn’t like your vision settling after waking from a very, very long nap. So blurry at first, you wonder if you’ve gone blind overnight (excerpt from a true jetlag tale).
For me, it’s much more gradual. See, when I first walked out of the airport, I was met with muggy air, a travel-sized van, and a kind van driver. The bright sun didn’t remind me I was so far from home (or a humid Florida summer). My first Pad Thai didn’t taste particularly “Chiang Mai” either.
I was surrounded by a sense of familiarity in the English street cafe signs, gentle bushes, and relatively tended roads.
The sporadic movement and drumming of the motorbikes rang familiar, like the deranged, chaotic traffic of Morocco—the Chiang Mai sidewalks—a sister to the sidewalks of Mexico City. The rolling hills and mountains west are a gentle reminder of Chapulhuacan.
- I can see resemblances between Florida, Morocco, and Mexico. True
- I am eating Thai food. True
- This place is like everywhere else I’ve been. False
A gradual understanding drastically shifted my perspective from Wat Lam Chiang to Wat Chiang Man to Wat Lam Chang to Wat Phra Lat (yes, they are all distinct). Slowly, each temple visit reminded me that the ancient history that defined Chiang Mai was unique to Chiang Mai alone.
At Wat Lam Chiang, the first Buddhist temple I visited, I noticed and learned how the design of Chiang Mai’s streets made it so that directions to 7-Eleven (where you can also pay your rent??) could take you through the temples. City planning highlighted the integration of Buddhism into daily life and the omnipresence of temples.
At the oldest Chiang Mai temple, Wat Chiang Man, I observed the story of the Buddha and the significant impact of gendered roles in Buddhist culture, particularly in the emphasis on monk education.
On a late-night walk, Wat Lam Chang shone brightly in the night, and the beautifully (suai) tailored man reminded me of the gravity of belief, faith, and trust.
A day on the highly elevated, revered temple of Wat Phra Lat immersed me in a meditative, peaceful state. In which I began to understand the significance of meditation in life, as well as its philosophical and spiritual aspects for others.
The deeply fascinating complexity of diverse ethnic identities and Buddhist influence is something I couldn’t taste in my first pad thai.
On my first day overlooking the warm, busy streets, I couldn’t yet fathom the complexity and uniqueness that interwove itself into the subtleties of Thai society. The wai, a clear example, is a lotus of Buddhism. The greetings which motioned my two thumbs from my eyebrow, nose, and mouth, indicating respect to monks, teachers, and parents. The word “jai”, encompassing the central value of the “mind and heart”, in the way it is used to describe feelings, characteristics, and emotions. The way “naam jai”, directly, the “water of the heart” is expressed as kindness. Or the way “suk jai” translates to “happy heart” and is meant to express deep contentment.
The dissonance and wonder of Chiang Mai extend far beyond an observance of the weather.
It can be lost in Google translation, but still can be retained by a careful eye, a careful ear, and an eager “jai”. Buddhist influence, ethnic ties, movements, and historical context are just below the surface of every facet of society I touch, every “Chaa Thai” I drink, and “Khop Khun Kha” I speak.
I understand that now.
Now, I look back at my clueless nature when I first arrived. A bright smile and an overly energetic wave, I gave to a Thai woman on the street corner.
I’ve seen her a few times since then. My smile is just as bright, but now I say “sa wat dii kha”, ever cognizant of the unspoken story the wai greeting I give tells.
I’m on my way to truly grasping the significance of being here. And I am incredibly excited for all that I have left to learn.
Smiles,
Brandy Gutierrez