When traveling to Chiang Mai, prepare yourself to be overwhelmed by the variety of activities on offer. Gibbons experience? It's there. Rock climbing and bouldering? Available. White water rafting? At your pleasure. Thai Cooking Class? Multitudes on offer. Motorbiking? The best in the country. Elephant trekking/shows/training/bathing/hanging out with? Yes to all. Zoos? Yep. Tiger Temple? Indeed. Massage? Everywhere. Jungle Treks? More than you can shake a stick at. Seriously, it's sorta ridiculous. Every third shop is some form of activity booking center, tempting you with their colorful posters of people just like you having the time of their life while doing "x".
Here's what Chiang Mai turned us into: Dave and I sitting on our hotel bed, attentively going through a stack of about seven hundred brochures outlining all of the amazing opportunities at our fingertips, as we desperately sought inspiration for the next day's plans. Predictably, trying to pick ONE option that would undoubtedly satisfy everyone's desires to have the BEST time possible made my brain hurt so hard that I threw my pile of their colorful promises into the air and all over the bed, thus acutely expressing my feelings on the matter. Of course, Dave felt exactly the same, followed my example, and we both proceeded to fall back on the comfy ease of our pillows while splaying our arms and legs across the shiny paper covered sheets, littered with crippling options. Thank you Chiang Mai, for outlining to me yet again, how unsuccessfully I sometimes react to decision making.
Now, let me pass on a bit of wisdom gained from the only real way that wisdom is gained: by making the wrong decision. If you ever have to temper your own travel interests (like, say, a 3 day trek into the jungle or a full days excursion bonding with rescued elephants) with the interests of another (like, say, a slightly older couple who hadn't really signed on for mucking about in or with the wild)... do not be tempted by certain 'samplings' of these activities in the form of a one day catch-all extravaganza. It would be understandable if you were. They seem quite alluring with their promises of being able to experience just a little taste of everything, all in one adventure filled stretch of daylight. Something for everyone, you tell yourself, (though there's a nagging question in your head, "Isn't there a reason I've never done this kind of thing before?"). "Everyone walks away happy", you assure yourself as you call up and book the tour, decidedly ignoring your underlying suspicions. At least a decision is made, you sigh with relief.
Here's what the tour brochure promised us: seeing beautiful butterfly and orchid farms, visiting an authentic hill tribe village, rambling aboard lovely elephants, walking through atmospheric jungle, swimming in a refreshing waterfall, followed by exciting white water rafting, and finally capped of with a peaceful down river drift atop a traditional bamboo raft. What we experienced was something slightly different. First up was a small outdoor enclosure filled everywhere with the same brown butterfly (and one incredibly large and very beautiful blueish black butterfly... that was fake.) Minus two points for trickery. Next, a garden of rainbow colored orchids. Exactly what one would expect an orchid farm to be, though not exactly a highlight for any of us non-flower connoisseurs. We'll give out a few points for fulfilling expectations though.
After that, it was on to the hill tribe village. Looking forward to going there was a very bad idea, as it turned out to be the most depressing tourist attraction I have ever been to. We were directed up a path through an obviously over manicured landscape, leading up to a few stalls selling the handiwork of the traditionally garbed women who ran them. Ah, okay, we're being steered towards buying something first, I thought. While interacting with the lively young women who ran the first couple of stalls, and asking to take a few pictures, I noticed that something about their clothing seemed odd. Too colorful... too shiny... too synthetic perhaps. The word 'costumes' came to mind, and seemed to fit quite accurately. All of our suspicions seemed to be piqued and as we rounded a bend, and once able to take in the full village view, those uneasy feelings grew stronger. Dozens of these stalls awaited us. In fact, there was nothing else to the 'village'. But the worst part by far was that in front of every stall was a woman, now obviously costumed in over the top, demeaning 'traditional' cloths of her ethnic tribe, vying for our attention and our patronage. Sometimes, their young children were on display beside them, also dressed up in equally obvious get-ups. Before the gravity of the place had really settled in, my instinctive reaction was to raise up my camera... especially when first seeing the women from the long-neck tribe, with their dazzling layers of silver rings stacking vertically up from their collarbone to unnatural heights before letting their chin finally escape. Yet, as the woman's eye's met mine after I snapped my first picture, I no longer had use for my camera. Humiliation stared back at me, plain and simple. The questions came then, unabated. How many tourists had strolled through this easily accessible sight, waving their cameras around so they could have a photo of a real, live, ethnic tribeswoman? How many of them had actually contributed support to the people whose faces they'd captured? And the children... what affect did it have on them to see their mother like this, and to grow up identifying themselves as a tourist attraction?
Finding out that these ethnic minorities in Thailand have no real status officially, that they can't be treated in Thai hospitals, and that their children aren't allowed to attend Thai schools, is extremely sad. Being told that these same human beings have been promised citizenship, if they first lived in these tourist government-run villages for the sum of ten years, is doubly depressing. Some sacrifice. The four of us shuffled around uncomfortably for the next ten minutes or so, as the realization that we had unwittingly set foot into what could only be called a human zoo, wormed it's unwanted way into all of our heads. So, tour spectacular... minus several hundred points, for helping to take away people's dignity and self-respect. Feeling like a failure as a tour guide and as a human being, I silently walked back towards our transport. With her characteristic good humor and contagious smile, Shona valiantly held fast to the rainbow lining. At least their children would hopefully have better opportunities...
On to the elephants! Now, as you can imagine, with the taste of the last experience still substantially lingering in my mouth, I approached the elephant camp with extreme trepidation. Elephant tourism is something that has always given me doubts. All through Nepal and India I shied away from partaking in any activities that revolved around those wrinkly beasts, feeling that their majesty was always compromised when in human hands. After once viewing the 'tools' (weapons? torture devices?) that are used when 'training' an elephant, I've never really recovered. Having said that, there are definitely some places in Asia, and near Chiang Mai, that approach elephant tourism as humanely as possible, places that rescue domesticated elephants from situations where they are poorly treated and offer them a living environment that has their best interests at heart. Unfortunately, I don't think that we ended up at such a place. It wasn't the worst elephant treatment I've seen by any stretch of the imagination, they seemed to be mostly looked after, but it wasn't exactly inspiring either to see them chained up to concrete blocks. Even the surrounding landscape that we would be hauled across for twenty minutes, proved quite drab and underwhelming. They are beautiful creatures, no doubt, and it will always give me an incredible feeling to stare into their unending eyes. I just wish that what stared back at me didn't usually look so sad and broken at times. All in all, minus a few dozen points for not giving those awe-inspiring creatures the best treatment possible.
It had to get better. It just had to. Leaving the elephant camp, we had about an hour's drive on rough dirt track ahead of us, before we reached the starting point of our little walk through the jungle. This proved quite entertaining, as my sometimes low tolerance of uncomfortable rides was humbly schooled by Dave's incredible mother... who, instead of having even the slightest negative reaction to being tossed and tumbled around in the back of an open-air jeep, actually smiled and squealed with delight every time we barreled over another sky-rocketing bump. Truly awesome spirit, as Tony would undoubtedly say. ;)
Unceremoniously we suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere, and were told to that we would now begin walking. Eager to exit the metal carcass, I jumped out into the surrounding wilderness. Unsure of what to expect at that point, I simply took in each moment as positively as I could, and that one seemed pretty good actually. We were led onto a path almost hidden by the thick of vegetation, and slowly we began to descend away from any memory of a motor vehicle. For the next 45 minutes we wandered through plant life that stretched and reached out in every direction like go-go gadget arms on steroids... upwards, outwards, downwards, inwards, away, and definitely towards. The jungle literally encroached in around us. As the air grew denser, the path seemed to get narrower and narrower. It was not that I was profusely sweating so much as it was that my pores were being squeezed of all their underlying liquids by the surrounding forces. Unidentifiable sounds swirled through my ears, until they were washed away by one sound: rushing water. We had reached the waterfall. Oh glory be to the heavens, I immediately stripped down to my bathing suit, and jumped in to the perfectly freezing waters. I was not the first in, nor the last, as all four of us could not be stopped from seeking refreshment. Those moments, splashing around in the crashing flow of nature, were purely perfect. Plus a hundred points for memories of laughter echoing off of crystal clear waters canopied by jungle life.
Is there more still, really? If your energy is waning while reading this, imagine the energy levels as we clambered back up to the jeep and bumped along for another hour, before being deposited beside a wide river valley for the very low-key activity of...white water rafting! Ha. Seriously though, other than what had then turned into an unfortunately overcast sky resulting in less than stellar temperatures for getting wet, there was a lot of fun to be had aboard our inflated rafts. And, I'll even say that when we switched air infused rubber, for strung together bamboo rods, I was no less entertained. Plus ten points for good ol' river fun.
Score sheet at the end says: it might not have been half bad, were it not for the incalculable errors made when tourist entertainment is trumped above the well-being of others.
Thank goodness that at least I had the company of fantastic people with me, making everything more manageable at every turn, and wholeheartedly escalating every enjoyable moment.
Here's what Chiang Mai turned us into: Dave and I sitting on our hotel bed, attentively going through a stack of about seven hundred brochures outlining all of the amazing opportunities at our fingertips, as we desperately sought inspiration for the next day's plans. Predictably, trying to pick ONE option that would undoubtedly satisfy everyone's desires to have the BEST time possible made my brain hurt so hard that I threw my pile of their colorful promises into the air and all over the bed, thus acutely expressing my feelings on the matter. Of course, Dave felt exactly the same, followed my example, and we both proceeded to fall back on the comfy ease of our pillows while splaying our arms and legs across the shiny paper covered sheets, littered with crippling options. Thank you Chiang Mai, for outlining to me yet again, how unsuccessfully I sometimes react to decision making.
Now, let me pass on a bit of wisdom gained from the only real way that wisdom is gained: by making the wrong decision. If you ever have to temper your own travel interests (like, say, a 3 day trek into the jungle or a full days excursion bonding with rescued elephants) with the interests of another (like, say, a slightly older couple who hadn't really signed on for mucking about in or with the wild)... do not be tempted by certain 'samplings' of these activities in the form of a one day catch-all extravaganza. It would be understandable if you were. They seem quite alluring with their promises of being able to experience just a little taste of everything, all in one adventure filled stretch of daylight. Something for everyone, you tell yourself, (though there's a nagging question in your head, "Isn't there a reason I've never done this kind of thing before?"). "Everyone walks away happy", you assure yourself as you call up and book the tour, decidedly ignoring your underlying suspicions. At least a decision is made, you sigh with relief.
 |
| Faker. |
After that, it was on to the hill tribe village. Looking forward to going there was a very bad idea, as it turned out to be the most depressing tourist attraction I have ever been to. We were directed up a path through an obviously over manicured landscape, leading up to a few stalls selling the handiwork of the traditionally garbed women who ran them. Ah, okay, we're being steered towards buying something first, I thought. While interacting with the lively young women who ran the first couple of stalls, and asking to take a few pictures, I noticed that something about their clothing seemed odd. Too colorful... too shiny... too synthetic perhaps. The word 'costumes' came to mind, and seemed to fit quite accurately. All of our suspicions seemed to be piqued and as we rounded a bend, and once able to take in the full village view, those uneasy feelings grew stronger. Dozens of these stalls awaited us. In fact, there was nothing else to the 'village'. But the worst part by far was that in front of every stall was a woman, now obviously costumed in over the top, demeaning 'traditional' cloths of her ethnic tribe, vying for our attention and our patronage. Sometimes, their young children were on display beside them, also dressed up in equally obvious get-ups. Before the gravity of the place had really settled in, my instinctive reaction was to raise up my camera... especially when first seeing the women from the long-neck tribe, with their dazzling layers of silver rings stacking vertically up from their collarbone to unnatural heights before letting their chin finally escape. Yet, as the woman's eye's met mine after I snapped my first picture, I no longer had use for my camera. Humiliation stared back at me, plain and simple. The questions came then, unabated. How many tourists had strolled through this easily accessible sight, waving their cameras around so they could have a photo of a real, live, ethnic tribeswoman? How many of them had actually contributed support to the people whose faces they'd captured? And the children... what affect did it have on them to see their mother like this, and to grow up identifying themselves as a tourist attraction?
 |
| Just before her eyes looked up at mine... and I put away my camera. |
On to the elephants! Now, as you can imagine, with the taste of the last experience still substantially lingering in my mouth, I approached the elephant camp with extreme trepidation. Elephant tourism is something that has always given me doubts. All through Nepal and India I shied away from partaking in any activities that revolved around those wrinkly beasts, feeling that their majesty was always compromised when in human hands. After once viewing the 'tools' (weapons? torture devices?) that are used when 'training' an elephant, I've never really recovered. Having said that, there are definitely some places in Asia, and near Chiang Mai, that approach elephant tourism as humanely as possible, places that rescue domesticated elephants from situations where they are poorly treated and offer them a living environment that has their best interests at heart. Unfortunately, I don't think that we ended up at such a place. It wasn't the worst elephant treatment I've seen by any stretch of the imagination, they seemed to be mostly looked after, but it wasn't exactly inspiring either to see them chained up to concrete blocks. Even the surrounding landscape that we would be hauled across for twenty minutes, proved quite drab and underwhelming. They are beautiful creatures, no doubt, and it will always give me an incredible feeling to stare into their unending eyes. I just wish that what stared back at me didn't usually look so sad and broken at times. All in all, minus a few dozen points for not giving those awe-inspiring creatures the best treatment possible.It had to get better. It just had to. Leaving the elephant camp, we had about an hour's drive on rough dirt track ahead of us, before we reached the starting point of our little walk through the jungle. This proved quite entertaining, as my sometimes low tolerance of uncomfortable rides was humbly schooled by Dave's incredible mother... who, instead of having even the slightest negative reaction to being tossed and tumbled around in the back of an open-air jeep, actually smiled and squealed with delight every time we barreled over another sky-rocketing bump. Truly awesome spirit, as Tony would undoubtedly say. ;)
Unceremoniously we suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere, and were told to that we would now begin walking. Eager to exit the metal carcass, I jumped out into the surrounding wilderness. Unsure of what to expect at that point, I simply took in each moment as positively as I could, and that one seemed pretty good actually. We were led onto a path almost hidden by the thick of vegetation, and slowly we began to descend away from any memory of a motor vehicle. For the next 45 minutes we wandered through plant life that stretched and reached out in every direction like go-go gadget arms on steroids... upwards, outwards, downwards, inwards, away, and definitely towards. The jungle literally encroached in around us. As the air grew denser, the path seemed to get narrower and narrower. It was not that I was profusely sweating so much as it was that my pores were being squeezed of all their underlying liquids by the surrounding forces. Unidentifiable sounds swirled through my ears, until they were washed away by one sound: rushing water. We had reached the waterfall. Oh glory be to the heavens, I immediately stripped down to my bathing suit, and jumped in to the perfectly freezing waters. I was not the first in, nor the last, as all four of us could not be stopped from seeking refreshment. Those moments, splashing around in the crashing flow of nature, were purely perfect. Plus a hundred points for memories of laughter echoing off of crystal clear waters canopied by jungle life.
Score sheet at the end says: it might not have been half bad, were it not for the incalculable errors made when tourist entertainment is trumped above the well-being of others.
Thank goodness that at least I had the company of fantastic people with me, making everything more manageable at every turn, and wholeheartedly escalating every enjoyable moment.
