There are no maps. There is no plan. There are only moments, and they come one at a time. I'm here to make the most out of each one of those moments, no matter where it may lead me. I'll be there. Mind, body, and soul.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Chiang Mai, Thailand 1.9.11-1.16.11
This quaint little laid back town reminds me so much of home. These days, the word "home" can mean any of many places, but right now I am referring to St. Augustine/Key West. Chiang Mai is in northern Thailand and is bordered on the north and west by mountains, jungly mountains. Granted, the mountains aren't quite snow-capped and tree-less as one might assume; however, the temperatures dip down low about halfway up the mountain and after sundown. The peak extends nearly 6,000 feet and seems very elevated to this sea level original. Whatever, they're mountains to me. There are many tourists here like where I come from, so that's nothing new to me, and they're mostly from Australia, Asia, and Europe, with hardly any Americans. It's a lovely little mix of culture and backgrounds and I've befriended people from Algeria, Switzerland, Ireland, Australia, France, Norway, Denmark, England, Korea, Thailand, Netherlands, Burma, and Spain, basically all within three days. Renting a motorcycle and heading into the mountains about 20 km, I witnessed bone-chilling waterfalls and deep wandering caves tucked away in the side of majestic rock protrusions, valiant hills of bamboo, a temple or "wat" so spiritual that one would feel ashamed if not slightly moved in its presence, and a stunning bird's-eye view of the city at night from 4,000 feet above, as the light of the day calmly rested its head behind the distant mountain pines. We found a village of Mhong people peacefully residing atop one of these mountains, growing coffee and making textiles and clothing by hand. Their quarters are as simple as their way of living, but the scenery is something from a fairy tail land found above the clouds somewhere in a far away place; jungle foliage surrounds a small valley of grass where vegetables and strawberries grow, a small stream creeping through the middle, and bamboo huts founded on clay dirt are warmed by the sun. A crisp, gentle breeze sweeps its way amongst it all making one yearn to be a part of such a primitive culture.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment