One of my indulgent and perhaps ultimately misguided visions for creating an introspective and therapeutic experience in Thailand was to involve myself in some kind of spiritual pursuit that would nurture my physical and emotional health. This basically meant some kind of either meditation or yoga retreat. I knew I might have concentration problems with extended meditation, so I began to research yoga retreats. I wasn’t even so sure about the retreat part, knowing myself I knew that I would be interested in a more socal experience, less retreat. Hopefully whatever I found would not be anything too desolate.

In Thailand, there are many such retreats. I soon found a particular hideaway outside of Chiang Rai, deep in the heart of northern Thailand about three hours north east of Chiang Mai. It was highly rated. Many 5-star Google reviews, touting the rejuvenating qualities, the cuisine, the yoga instruction. It looked like just what I thought I was looking for.  Sure, it had a funky lacto-ovo vegetarian diet, but I thought well, how bad can that be.

Leaving the hostel for the same destination was a fellow traveler, Diane from The Netherlands. Our paths briefly crossed on this transfer, and she was very friendly to chat with as we made our way up north.

Our van stopped at Wat Rong Khun, also known as “The White Temple,” on the outskirts of Chiang Rai. This surreal and passionately decorated temple was the artistic vision of Thai artist Chalermchai Kositpipat. In the late 20th century the temple was in a state of great disrepair, and without sufficient funding for renovation, so Chalermchai took the project on himself. He would renovate and revive the temple with is own funding and in his own vision. Today it is an eccentric artistic creation with tremendous inspiration – and a very bustling tourist destination.

Diane and I walked around and took a few pictures before getting refreshments and jumping back in the van to move on to Chiang Rai.

The “bus depot” was basically a muddy parking lot full of puddles, small dirty blue vans and many men loitering about. Someone from the retreat would be on their way to pick me up.

At this point I was still not sure what to expect from the retreat. Never having been to a retreat, I had nothing to reference. I don’t even like communal situations. But the mind fills in the unknown with its hopes, so I somehow pictures a place that might be inspiring and might introduce me to new friends. I would only understand this place once I arrived.

So far on my trip I had been busy and active. I was meeting people, moving aorund with a bounce in my step, trying new foods and seeing new sights. Somehow I still assumed a retreat would fit in to the mood of things, although mellow and a change of pace. It could be rewarding in some unexpected way.

It ended up being a total disaster. But not really. I was able to take a terrible situation and turn it around, and it actually ended up being one of the best segments of my whole trip. It was an experience of personal growth actually, and I learned something about myself.

The retreat was about a twenty minute drive outside of town. It was down a quiet and semi-hidden dirt road into a wooded area with fields for farming. I was checked in and shown to my room.

Except for about four other guests, the place was completely empty. I went to my first meal in the afternoon in the communal cafeteria. Everyone sat alone and in silence. Among the few other guests was a young guy named Lawrence, a friendly lad who was half Asian and half British. Although Lawrence currently lived in Hong Kong, he was raised in the posh schools of Great Britain. He was definitely polite and restrained, and he seemed the only approachable person there.

I couldn’t bear the awkwardness of everyone sitting alone staring down at their food in silence, so I sat down next to him and started a conversation. All we could talk about was how strange everything was here.

“What’s up with this place?”

“Yeah it is a bit weird isn’t it.” Lawrence replied.

“And this food? It doesn’t have any taste. What are we eating? I’m not sure I can eat this for a whole week.”

The food was appalling. I struggled to get anything down. Water was the only beverage. I had serious doubts that I could survive this retreat for a full week. The whole place was creepy and weird, with other peculiar details that betrayed the cost of the stay.

But I won’t spend this entire article complaining about the retreat. Because I had plans to break out. I decided I could not be there the full week nor even two nights. I came to Thailand to have adventures, and this retreat simply was not in the spirit of that goal. That’s all. Mistakes are made during travel and it’s ok. I knew I would be forfeiting my payment, but that is just not important if it means suffering through a week of misery.

I wanted to be in town, sightseeing, meeting poeple, being spontaneous, and certainly trying the northern Thailand cuisine. I wanted action! I definitely did not want to be isolated off in a dreary resort in the woods by myself. No way! I knew I had to get out of there and make things right!

During the first evening Lawrence and I hung out in a lounge area. I was plotting my escape already, looking at hotels back in town. This was actually a powerful exercise for as an individual. Many times in my life I had been passive and reluctant to stand for what I wanted. But I knew I had to take action, and it was nothing personal. My needs were more important than not hurting the feelings of the staff should I leave. Seems obvious. Although I had just arrived, my assertive abilities kicked in.

The next morning – my first full day – I went to an early morning yoga class in an open air gazebo. It was pouring rain. There were two people in the class – myself and Lawrence. The instructor was a very sweet Thai woman, and despite the gloominess and awkward sense I was having about everything, it felt good to stretch and move. I had seeds of doubt for sure. Am I bailing too soon? Should I give it a couple days? Maybe things will improve? How will I tell the staff that I am leaving after one night?

Lawrence said the breakfast should be better, so I was hoping this would be so. I had heard there was “milk.” This turned out to be rancid, curdled milk, part of the bizarre diet. On the way back to my room I vomited. My body was rejecting the food. I could not keep it down. I found the experience here so far to be extremely depressing, and I simply had to leave if I was to save the next week from misery.

I was nervous about offending the staff as to my sudden departure, but it had to be done. As a younger man I would often go along with things because I didn’t want to make a fuss. But this was the lesson I learned about myself as a more mature adult. Take charge, take control. And I would tell the reception now.

“Hello, how can we help you?”

“Good morning. Listen, I’m not going to be able to stay here. I am not feeling well about being here, I am having a very hard time eating the food, and well, I just can’t stay. I have booked a hotel in town and I’ll be checking out this morning. I’m really sorry but I just can’t stay here.”

“Ahh…..Ok…. Well um, yes I see. Well ok. We cn help you with that of course. We can have a taxi take you back into town.”

“Thank you, I would really appreciate that.”

They were completely stunned, but of course very kind and polite. The Thai are gentle people. It was very difficult for me to have this conversation but I kept it impersonal. And I immediately felt an enormous burden lift once it was done. I could stop worrying now about hurting anyone’s feelings and move forward.

The retreat was like camping in a way. When you go camping, you exchange creature comforts for a higher level experience of being immersed in nature. It’s not home, and you accept that for however many days you can stand it. And then when you return to civilization you experience all those creature comforts that you normally take for granted. A hot shower. The internet. Coffee just the way you like it. A full hot meal. A comfortable bed. This was no different. I booked a room at The Wiang Inn, a fairly upscale hotel in the middle of Chiang Rai (still only about $47 per night). As if I had been camping, I wanted comfort – if only for a few days.

Minibar! Television! Hot shower! A big bed! A fully functional toilet! Let’s get back on track These small comforts stood out in glory after merely one night at this retreat. Like I had been camping.

So now let’s see what’s going on in this town. The first night I found an Italian restaurant and enjoyed a delicious pizza. Yes I had been eating pad Thai for almost three weeks, so I needed a temporary reset with pizza and wine!

I had been introduced to Allish through a contact in Bangkok, and we had been chatting for a couple of days. This was another reason I had to get the hell out of there and back into civilization. I wasn’t going to meet anyone at a retreat in the woods. I told Allish I would be staying at the Wiang Inn, and we arranged that she would pick me up at my hotel the next morning and we would go sightseeing.

After a full buffet breakfast that was beyond satisfying, I waited outside when a dirty red Datsun came around the corner and pulled up directly in front of me. This must be… Allish. Music blasting. The car is a mess. This was going to be interesting.

“Where we go! What plan? What you want do?!”

I was momentarily taken aback by her direct and abrupt tone. I had my guidebook and offered up a few ideas.

“I heard this temple was nice? Or what about this one?” I replied.

Allish barely spoke a word of English. I mean, barely one word. It was a comical scene really, and yet soon we began a rhythm to our sightseeing day. She mentioned Wat Rong Khun, (“The Whiute Temple”) and I tried explaining – in as basic  English as I could complete with hand signals, that I had already been there yesterday. She suggested it again, and I repeated. I wondered if she knew what I had said at all… We were speeding along and before you know it we were at Wat Rong Khun. I gave up and decided to go with the flow.

I remembered I had photos of being at this temple from a couple days earlier, so I showed her.

“See? I was here already.”

It finally dawned on her, and laughs and smiles abounded. She was as amused as I was with the miscommunication, and it was all lighthearted and fun. I guess repeating things more loudly than the first time does not compel someone to understand you more easily! We then stopped at the refreshment stand for an ice cream cone before moving on to our next spot.

The Singha Park is a lovely and relaxing expanse of open land created by the Thai beer corporation Singha. In the midst of a wide open field is an enormous sculpture of their logo, a mythical dragon of some sort.

While Allish looked for a place to park, Lawan and I ran up to the sculpture to check it out. It felt great to be running around in the open, untethered and open to any possiblity. Eventualy the three of us continued on to the park restaurant for a cold beer on the patio. Views were gorgeous. Various Asian tourists gathered in large family groups for lunch in the open air dining and patio area. 

Next stop was the Mae Fah Luang Art & Culture Park. This cultural destination integrates a shared cultural identity of the Lanna Kingdom. The Lanna region encompasses a wide area that includes neighboring regions of Myanmar to the west, Lao to the east, and the eight northernmost provinces of Thailand Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, Phayao, Prae, Nan, Lampang, Lamphun, and Mae Hong Son (not that these names mean anything to me).

Still evident is the rich cultural and historical heritage of the Lanna Kingdom, exprfessed  in the traditions and beliefs of the local people. The park contains the largest collection of folk art and teak artifacts, and has won several awards fas an outstanding and unique tourist destination in all of Northern Thailand.

We walked the paths and the quiet open halls among teak sculptures, and work of traditional art. Nothing was explained in English so Allish did her best to help translate what she could.

Last stop for the day was Wat Huai Pla Kung Temple – a white seated buddha the size of a city block resting on a hilltop. Picture the statue of liberty – tourists gather in the foundation structure and purchase tickets for an elevator ride to the top and the broad views out of the buddha’s eyeballs. The buddha is cast in ivory white, and on various levels on the way up are smaller buddhist sculptures.

By this time I was exhausted. I was checking out mentally, so we split for the early evening and made plans to meet up with a friend of hers at the night market for a stroll and drinks. The introvert I am, I nearly cancelled as I was so exhausted by then. But also when you’re having a ball with new friends, you just have to rally.

That evening I waited in a busy square for them to arrive. The streets were bustling. I ate a coconut. There was a dance performance in progress, and many families picnicing about. The atmosphere was festive and casual, locals mixed with many western tourists. People approached the stage and danced in a long line, foreigners, locals, in a spectacle reminiscent of square dancing here in America.

There were a variety of food stalls with chicken and vegetable kabobs, squid, sushi, exotic fruits, and yes, bugs. Large trays filled with roasted worms and crickets. I had no interest. I know what you’re thinking, I am supposed to gobble this all up and show my daring prowess. Frankly, I just was not interested! I had eaten crickets in Mexico City and you know? It’s really not that special.

There were various other snacks, sweet roasted nuts wrapped in banana leaf. A bamboo section filled with a sweet liquid that you suck on. Other stalls with clothing and trinkets, small decorative sculptures.

I was always looking for little gifts – gifts for my son in Germany, crafts or textiles I could take home for myself or my family. I am rather selective however, and I keep my spending restrained. I only had limited baggage and whatever I collected would have to get home somehow.

In one stall I was eyeing a little buddha statue, about the size of a bookend. I began the haggle game with the vendor, a little old lady. Of course I barely know the haggling etiquette, only what I had learned in Guatemala ten years ago – whatever they state as the price, offer half, or less. It’s a game. They expect you to bargain.

She started at 850 baht. How about 150. Ok, I’m a jerk, but I have to push it. 550. How about 250. 450. How about 300. 450. How about 300? 450 450 450. Now she wouldn’t budge. I didn’t want this little sculpture that badly, so I said no thanks and we kept walking.

Allish burst out laughing. She started talking to her frend telling her what just happened.

“What did I do? What’s so funny?”

Allish thought it was hilarious that I had bargained this lady down so low, and then simply walked away! I had no idea that that was rude or inconsiderate, though I guess maybe it was. It makes sense now that I think about it… If you are going to engage the vendor and begin a bidding game, at least be serious and follow through when you agree on a price. I had simply bailed. Allish was cracking up, and I guess it was rather amusing once I realized her point of view. Oh well, no real harm done!

Next stop was to find a place for some drinks. I found myself now in the back of Allish’s car, speeding around as we headed to a concentration of cheap and casual roadside bars on Jetyod Road.

This is another clue that I keep in mind about whether I’m having and authentical and engaging experience with locals. If you are in the back of someone’s car speeding around town looking for a party, you are having a good time in a foreign country. Just go with it.

I had an experience like this in Lisbon Portugal when I was a very young twenty year old, a memory that will never leave me – bouncing up and own the hilly roads in a beat up VW bug, with two scorching hot Germans and a swarthy Portuguese, looking for the next nightclub.

We randomly picked a little sidewalk bar in the midst of countless others. Nothing was croweded in the least because again, it was the low season. Apparently these open bars would all be jammed in several months. Every spot had an open air front, a casual atmosphere to chill out. Pool tables, jukeboxes, ladyboys, a few travelers in shadows made the scene.

There was a nearly opaque language barrier between Allish and her friend, and I. Still, it didn’t seem to matter. Someone heard I was interested in renting a scooter, so the owner of Chiang Rai Big Bike Co stopped by to talk. He was an American biker expat who had lived here for fifteen years. He primarily rented real motorcycles for extended touring. Overkill for what I was interested in. But I considered it. Allish and her friend were gabbing away, and it was a lot of fun. There was no tension, no awkwardness.

Pretty soon it was our fourth round and the silliness was escalating. They taught me how to say “I love coconut” in Thai. “Chan rak maphraw” [Ch-chon-mepow]. Over and over we said this until I had it memorized! And I truly do, I love coconut.

One of the joys of travel and meeting people of other cultures is the simplicity of the interactions. It requires nothing more than curiosity, patience, and kindness. These experiences bring out the good in people I believe. Much in the way people you meet on the road become intimate to your experience and memories despite the fact that you just met them. And if there is a language barrier, you rely on this common human connection all the more. Allish made jumbled, simplistic convseration, but we managed to understand each other and have a great day together.

The night was coming to a close. This is what traveling is meant to be like. Meeting locals, hanging out with them and sharing some laughs and some culture. Tomorrow would be a big day as I was to head on two wheels into unknown territories…