All posts by Sharon

Island living at Koh Lipe

A five-hour speed boat ride delivered us to an island paradise about as far south as you can go in Thailand. Koh Lipe’s clear turquoise water and white sand beaches didn’t disappoint (at first).

Our poolside room at the Mali Sunrise Resort was huge, and it was just a few steps to the beach, where the hotel’s restaurant served up fantastic food and delicious happy hour cocktails.

We quickly discovered the route to “Walking Street,” a paved road that connected our side of the island with another popular area, Pattaya Beach, and featured shops, restaurants, bars, and massage parlors. Although cars were prohibited, there was no shortage of motorbikes and a creative type of taxi: a motorbike with a large sidecar attachment with bench seating. Frankly, it was a little too chaotic for us, so we generally hunkered down at our resort.

One day, we took a long-tail boat to the neighboring island, Koh Adang, which is the second biggest island in the Tarutao National Marine Park. Bigger than Koh Lipe, it remains undeveloped except for a campsite and a few bungalows operated by the park. I had read about a hiking trail, so we set off, following the sign to Chado Cliff. I had no idea the “trail” would be quite so steep and treacherous. I loved it! We hiked to three viewpoints. The third offered an incredible view of Koh Lipe.

On the way back down, we caught up with a young couple who were taking forever to descend. We kept pausing to let them get ahead, but honestly, it was torture watching the man struggling so much. I snarkily commented to Tony that the stupid guy was hiking in Keen sandals, which clearly didn’t have enough tread. As if the universe reached out to slap me for being mean, I promptly slid on some loose sand and fell smack on my back. Other than a few scrapes and a bruised ego, I was fine.

Safe at the bottom of the hill, Tony and I high-fived. Look at us, pushing 60 and kicking ass! We celebrated our success with a quick dip in the sea before heading home.

Another day, we booked a private snorkeling trip that stopped at five locations for us to jump in the water. One site was particularly noteworthy with blue coral and heaps of colorful fish. We stayed in the water until I started shivering, and even then, I was reluctant to get out.

One of the stops, Hin Ngam Island, was covered in smooth striped rocks. Tony immediately pocketed one, but then we saw the sign. I convinced him to leave the rock where he found it.

Lunch was included in our day trip, so we stopped at Sai Khao Beach for some fried rice and a swim. Heavenly.

On our last day, I told Tony I wanted to walk the length of our beach, but at the end of Sunrise Beach, we just kept going. Tony was sure we could walk the perimeter of the whole island. It’s only 1.5 miles wide and a little over a mile long, so it seemed doable. At some points, we had to climb over boulders, and once we had to wade waist-deep into the ocean to get around some big rocks. Finally, we hit a wall … literally. A huge wall of rock cut off our trek, so we turned inland and aimed for another beach. By the time we got there, though, we were hot and tired. We abandoned our quest and headed back to our resort for a little pool time. We may not have walked the whole perimeter, but we covered a lot!

Koh Lipe was not the unspoiled, tranquil getaway we had been expecting. So many people had claimed it was the place to go to escape the crowds. Wrong. Maybe that place doesn’t exist.

Here are some other things that made me a little grouchy:

  • Too many long-tail boats docked at the beaches. Who knows what yucky stuff they leak into the water? We had to swim around them, and when walking on the beach, we had to be careful to step over their mooring ropes or risk falling on our faces.
  • Way way way too many motorbikes zip through the pedestrian areas. You just can’t let your guard down.
  • The skies were overcast and dreary almost the whole week. As the poster child for Seasonal Affective Disorder, I really needed that sun to come out (which it DID on our last day – yay!).
  • It was insanely windy on our side of the island. Like, CRAZY windy. You couldn’t sit on a beach lounger and read a book without your bag blowing away.
  • The sand at our beach comprised rough tiny pebbles, sharp shards of shells, and broken coral. It was far from the soft baby powder sand promised by bloggers and YouTubers (had they even visited the beach?).

Reading over that list of gripes, I almost deleted it. What a whiny baby, right? Ha! But then again, don’t you hate when people sugarcoat their travel stories and leave out the not-so-perfect parts?

The fact is we had a great time at Koh Lipe. Was it the paradise I had envisioned? No. But that’s OK. Tony and I both find our bliss at the beach, and this was no exception. Would I go back? Probably not, but only because it was a long journey and we have so many fabulous beaches closer to home. Which one should we visit next?

Two nights at Cheow Lan Lake – lovely scenery and not much else

Our accommodations at Cheow Lan Lake were basic. I mean mattress-on-the-floor-no-wifi-not-even-power-outlets-in-the-room basic. The Keereewarin Chiewlarn Resort floated on the lake with raft houses linked together in two perpendicular rows, joined at a common dining area.

Our original itinerary said we would be hiking, so I assumed we would boat to some chunk of land a couple of times during our stay. With that in mind, I booked two nights at the lake. In fact, we didn’t do any hiking, and the only diversions were to play in the lake and head out twice daily for long-tail boat rides to look for wildlife. There’s only so much swimming two old, out-of-shape people can do, and the boat rides got a little tedious when the wildlife continued to stay hidden.

Fortunately, our guide took his time getting to this destination, and it turned out to be one of my favorite days of our vacation. Quite a few guests at the treehouse resort were heading to the lake, so we all piled into two vans for the trip. After a rest stop at a small family-owned campsite, we went for a glorious hike in the national park. We kept up a steady pace, pausing to appreciate a particularly incredible tree with buttress roots taller than Tony or slowing down to explore a couple of caves, where stalagmites and stalactites sparkled and tiny bats hung from the ceilings. It was exactly the hit of nature I needed.

We returned to the campsite for lunch and then took off for the lake, where we boarded a long-tail boat. Rather than going straight to our “resort,” the guide gave us a tour of some impressive karst formations in the lake. Thais call the area “Guilin, Thailand” because of its similarity to Guilin, China, where the landscape is littered with these towering rocks. Tony and I visited Guilin when we lived in China, but we had no idea that the two areas were once part of the same coral reef. Visit Khao Sok explains the fascinating geological history:

The history of Khao Sok national park starts 300 million years ago. Rising oceans created a shallow sea with conditions perfect for the growth of coral. The result was a massive reef which stretched from China to Borneo. Eventually, more sediment buried this reef deep below the surface, and the pressure compressed the coral into limestone. It is this limestone that forms the Karst mountains we see today!

About 60 million years ago, the Indian tectonic plate collided with the Eurasian plate and as a result formed the Himalayas. At the same time, Thailand was rotated clockwise and moved to the south-east as the Himalayas rose. The ancient, buried limestone was thrust up, folded, faulted, and then eroded into its current form.

The lake itself was created when Thailand dammed the Pasaeng River in 1987 for hydroelectric power and flood control. As the waters rose, efforts to rescue and relocate animals largely failed, and the five abandoned villages – including homes, schools, and temples – still sit at the bottom of the lake. Kind of sad.

Although two nights was one night too many at our primitive raft house, I can’t complain. I spent a lot of time sitting on our deck, reading a book, and enjoying the scenery.

Finally, we took a boat to the mainland and were happy to find the driver we had booked to take us to Phuket Town. Previous visits to Phuket were solely for the beaches, but this time we stayed in town and poked around the touristy neighborhood. We had hoped to visit the night market, but it was closed, dang it. The next morning, we boarded a speed boat for the 5-hour journey to Koh Lipe. Island time!

Khao Sok National Park – jungle time and elephant spa day

After six years of living just steps from the Andes foothills in Chile, I find I’m missing nature. My suburban Bangkok neighborhood is leafy enough, and I can walk along the canals to get away from the hustle and bustle. It’s surprisingly quiet and peaceful. As our semester break approached, though, I knew what I needed. I booked the “Explorer Lake Trip” package in Khao Sok National Park, which included two nights in a treehouse in the jungle and two nights in a raft house at the Cheow Lan Lake.

On Dec. 18, we arrived at Our Jungle House, an eco resort in the national park, where the lady at reception took one look at us and suggested we rethink our plan to go rafting with a cave exploration. Instead, she said, we should go tubing. Which we did. However, the river was quite low and slow, so we had to paddle the whole time to keep up the with guide, who had taken off his flip flops to use as oars. Yes, it was nice to be out in nature, but it also felt like a consolation prize.

Tony and I have trekked in jungles around the world: Costa Rica, Bolivia, Borneo, and many times in Thailand, to name a few. We really didn’t need a guide, even though that’s generally my jam. Unfortunately, our “explorer” package came with a guided tour, and the guide never showed up. By the time our eco resort found another guide, we were way behind schedule. We were joined by a mom and her two grown kids from the UK, who were way more excited than Tony and I were to pause at every sign of a tarantula burrow or an unusual leaf that curled when you touched it. Been there, done that.

I felt so jaded during the whole hike. Really, I just wanted to keep moving and enjoy the Seusstastic landscape of wildly tangled vines, unbelievably huge leaves, the occasional rustle (monkey? monitor lizard?), and the woop-woop call of gibbons. At one point, we came to a lovely waterhole fed by a rushing stream, and the others stripped off their hiking gear to take a dip in their swimsuits. Nobody had informed us that we might be swimming, so we were unprepared. Being unprepared makes me cranky. 

I tried to brush off my irritability to appreciate the jungle. I couldn’t get enough of the fig trees’ wild root systems and the towering bamboo arches that created a tunnel along parts of the trail. At the waterhole, we spotted a 5-foot-long monitor lizard (so maybe I wasn’t too sad about not swimming). Our guide pointed out a pit viper sleeping high in a tree, which got him talking about different types of snakes. He said the most venomous snake in the region was the king cobra. “He bite you, one minute bye-bye!” he said with a laugh.

Because of our late start, we returned to the eco resort with just barely enough time to wolf down some lunch before our scheduled “elephant experience.” Despite living and traveling in Asia for so many years, we’ve never had a first-hand encounter with elephants.

Although many tourists still hope for a photo opp atop an elephant, a friend in India helped me understand the cruelty and abuse elephants suffer in order to be domesticated. I knew I didn’t want to contribute to that type of tourism. Instead, we visited the Khaosok Elephant Conservation Centre, which is committed to elephant welfare. This article from the Travel & Leisure website explains why you shouldn’t ever ride an elephant.

At the conservation center, the guide, Chalee, explained that elephants had been used in Thailand since ancient times when they were trained to carry soldiers into battle. Later, the logging industry took advantage of their size and strength, and of course, tourists eagerly pay to interact with and ride an elephant. As welfare organizations have worked to raise awareness, tourists can now find more opportunities for an ethical encounter with Thailand’s national animal.

All of the elephants at the conservation center had been in the family for generations but were now retired from any type of labor or service, Chalee said. We were assigned to Boonsong, an elderly elephant they called “the grandmother.”

During our visit, Boonsong was never tied up or controlled with a sharp hook as I’ve seen in other places, including India. Her handler, called a mahout, simply called out commands. I realize that she was most likely abused in her training at some point to behave so compliantly, which is heartbreaking, but I want to believe her life now is all about indulgence and peace.

Our first task involved mashing up bananas and powdered elephant food to make a cookie dough-ish paste that we rolled into balls. Then we fed the balls, along with some mini bananas and pineapple, to our elephant. Chalee had demonstrated how we could hand off the food to Boonsong’s trunk, or we could put it directly into her mouth.

After her snack, we walked with Boonsong to a mud pit. Chalee noted that elephants love mud because it acts as a natural coolant. Elephants can only sweat from their feet near the toenails, she said. Their big, flapping ears serve as another cooling method in Thailand’s tropical heat.

Tony and I climbed into the mud pit with Boonsong and her mahout. We used a coconut shell to scoop mud from the floor, and then we rubbed mud all over the elephant’s body. I had expected her skin to feel leathery, but I was surprised at how thick and rigid it was. However, Chalee pointed out that elephants are very sensitive to touch and can detect insects or changes in temperature. She encouraged us to stroke, but not to slap, as we applied the mud.

From the mud pit, Boonsong walked to a huge shower, where her mahout washed off most of the mud before leading her to the river for her full-body scrub. We splashed into the river with stiff brushes and coconut buckets, scouring her legs and lower body. When the mahout gave the signal, she dropped down to her knees so we could wash her upper half. Elephants here are prone to illness caused by a biting fly that deposits its egg in the wound, which is one reason a daily bath helps to keep the elephants healthy.

Stepping from the river, squeaky clean, Boonsong immediately used her trunk to blow sand over her body, the equivalent of applying insect repellent and sunscreen.

Overall, the experience was a bit contrived, but I didn’t care. When I try to describe how it felt to spend time with Boonsong, I can only think of cliches: She was majestic, gentle, intelligent, and endearing.

Although the jungle wasn’t exactly meeting my nature needs, my first elephant encounter was everything I hoped it would be.

Staycation on the Chao Phraya River

Right after school on Friday, Tony and I left our respective neighborhoods to meet up for a staycation at a boutique hotel on the Phrao Chaya River in the heart of Bangkok. Although we technically live in the city, we each spent two hours in a taxi to reach the Amdaeng hotel.

We dropped our bags and immediately headed back out to explore Awakening Bangkok, an annual light and digital art festival. According to the Time Out website, this year’s festival in Old Town featured the theme, “Time Passage,” emphasizing how the labyrinth of streets and canals has met transportation needs for two centuries.

Our guide for the evening was Nicholas with the Bangkok chapter of Internations, a global organization for expats. Our group comprised about 15 people from around the world. It was fun to catch up with Claire, whom we had met at a previous event, and to get to know new faces. Nicholas led us to the various installations, sharing fascinating tidbits about Thai history and the temples, bridges, canals, and other sites we passed along the way.

Tony and I stuck with the group to visit about half the 29 installations before we petered out. Friday nights are rough for teachers! We found a tiny Thai-Mexican fusion restaurant nearby and enjoyed delicious cocktails and food with another member of the group. Finally, we called a taxi and headed back to our lovely riverside oasis.

The next morning, we took time to appreciate the hotel and its setting. I loved reading on our fourth-floor balcony, overlooking the busy river. The brick-red paint, tile floors, antique furniture, and clawfoot tub in our room contrasted a bit with the concrete floor of the oversized modern shower stall and exposed HVAC fittings of the high ceilings. It felt like Victorian Era meets Industrial Chic. The steep narrow stairway was lined with an ornate wrought-iron railing, and the reception area featured gorgeous tiled floors, a long leather couch, and a wall of partially desilvered mirrors.

Look at these gorgeous floor tiles!

Morning view from our balcony.

After a hearty riverside breakfast, we headed out for a morning of art and culture. Transportation took us a minute to figure out. The ferry to the other side of the river didn’t operate on Saturdays, so we started walking. After about 45 sweaty minutes, we hopped in a cab.

We had toured the Jim Thompson House before, maybe 20 years ago? Tony was especially curious to see it again. The attraction features the home and art collection of the late James H.W. Thompson, an American businessman who revitalized the Thai silk industry in the 1960s. He was first introduced to Thailand while serving in the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the forerunner to the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). He later shifted gears and took an interest in the Thai silk trade, creating dramatic color combinations that found fame in the movie, “The King and I.” In 1967, he mysteriously disappeared while on a visit to the Cameron Highlands of Malaysia.

In addition to his silk legacy, Thompson is also known for the construction of his unusual home. In 1958, he purchased, moved, and reassembled several traditional teak houses, which sit on stilts. Our guide explained that a traditional teak home wouldn’t have anything on the first floor because that was where the Thai family would cook or keep animals and vehicles. To enter the home, they would climb an exterior staircase or ladder. Thompson went a little rogue by designing an entryway with a checkerboard floor and interior staircase. He also linked the houses together to comprise a large living room, smaller dining room, kitchen, study, and two bedrooms, all linked by a long hallway.

After moving into the house in 1959, Thompson played host to Western celebrities and politicians, showing off his extensive collection of Asian art. You can read more about the history at the Jim Thompson House website.

I liked the porcelain cat chamber pot in the guest room and the “mouse house” in the master bedroom. Apparently, this form of entertainment involved watching live mice scamper about, much like a hamster habitrail, I suppose.

It was a short walk to the Bangkok Art and Culture Centre (BACC). I hadn’t done my research, so we didn’t make good use of our time in the center. I think we missed several exhibits. We’ll have to go back!

That evening, we took the metro to The Deck, a fun bar where Tony’s school was holding its Christmas party for staff. I had heard so much about his friends and colleagues; it was great to finally meet them. Back at our hotel later that night, we hung out on our balcony for a while, watching tugboats pull huge barges while party boats full of revelers cruised by.

We went our separate ways in the morning. Back to reality. Counting down to our next school break. Two weeks!

Loy Krathong Festival comes to Perfect Place

Over the years, I’ve learned mindfulness techniques to help quiet my anxious mind. One involves putting intrusive thoughts into imaginary little boats that float away down a river, allowing me to focus on my breath and find peace. Naturally, I couldn’t resist participating in Thailand’s Loy Krathong festival, which takes that practice and makes it real. Thai people drop actual little boats into the water to both cast off negative energy and send gratitude to various water gods.

The festival takes place in the 12th month of the Thai lunar calendar on a night with a full moon, which was Monday of this week. Opportunities abounded throughout Bangkok, a city criss-crossed with large and small waterways. I opted to visit the Perfect Place lake, just minutes from my house.

My friend, Melissa, and I scootered to our neighborhood’s festival, where food vendors lined the street next to the small lake. Thai families had spread out picnic blankets, and children ran around playing the myriad games on offer. Many festival-goers dressed in traditional Thai clothing of brightly colored silk. Twinkly lights illuminated the lakefront, and speakers played upbeat music. The vibe was joyful and celebratory.

Loy means “to float,” and a krathong is a small, floating religious offering. Several booths offered krathongs, including some made from fish food and others crafted from natural materials. Artisans created krathongs on site, weaving banana leaves and pinning them to a base made from a slice of banana tree trunk before adding flowers, candles, and incense sticks.

Melissa and I bought banana leaf krathongs and wandered along the lakefront to find a good place for setting sail. We greeted many friends, colleagues, and students, who were clearly enjoying the special event and cool evening temperatures.

Finally, we met up with another friend, Jane, whose husband had thought to bring a lighter. Together we knelt on the pavement, lit our candles and incense sticks, and bent down to drop our krathongs in the lake. Melissa’s promptly tipped over, which gave us a good laugh. Jane’s and mine stayed upright, but they didn’t really go anywhere.

Ideally, you would lower your krathong into the water, and it would float away dramatically into the distance until it disappeared from sight. Unfortunately, the gentle breeze at our community lake pushed all the krathongs right back to the shore, so the effect was rather anticlimactic.

The whole time, I was having flashbacks to my first Loy Krathong. While living in Laos 13 years ago, I joined some friends for Vientiane’s celebration, called Loi Ka Thong. Same basic premise, but yowza, what a different experience. Check it out.

There’s a growing controversy over whether this festival should continue as is. It’s a bit ironic to offer blessings to the river gods and ask forgiveness for acts that pollute the water while at the same time clogging waterways with garbage. Even though most of the krathongs feature biodegradable materials these days, there are simply too many. According to the Thailand Foundation website:

As concerns about environmental conservation rise, many became aware problems posed by certain aspects of the festival. Namely, the over-floating of krathongs in certain area can, ironically, lead to polluting issues. Though the organic materials used to make krathongs can decompose naturally, oversaturation can cause problems such as stench and rot. Cleaning up after the festival is a laborious task undertaken by the government and communities living around water ways each year.

As an eco-warrior, I’m torn. I strongly advocate reducing our consumption in general, but I can’t deny the power of this lovely celebration. I’ve read about some creative solutions such as digital krathongs controlled by a smart phone and projected on the water. However, tradition dies hard. I’m curious to see how Thailand addresses this issue in the future.

Sunday Cycling At Bang Krachao

The Chao Phraya River, which bisects Bangkok, makes a little loop in the southern part of the city, creating an urban oasis of mangrove forests and jungle perfect for exploring by bicycle. The “island” called Bang Krachao features bike paths, parks, a market, coffee shops, and other attractions for people seeking to escape the manic pace of Bangkok.

I recently joined Internations, a global organization that connects expats for social events and other opportunities. One of the Internations groups had scheduled a visit to Bang Krachao, so Tony and I tagged along yesterday afternoon.

Seventeen of us met at the Bang Na metro stop, where we all piled into a songtaew, a type of open-air truck taxi, for the ride to the pier. There, we caught a ferry and sailed across the river to Bang Krachao. Just a short walk from the ferry landing were several bike rentals, where we hopped on rickety well-used bikes and took off.

For some of the ride, we stayed in the bike lane on the main road, but other times we rode into the jungle on elevated concrete or wooden paths. Oftentimes, the narrow path lacked railings on one or both sides, which triggered some messed-up mind games. I mean, I know I can ride a bike in a straight line, but throw in the threat of plunging into a murky canal (likely full of snakes and monitor lizards) and suddenly I tense up, wobble the handlebars back and forth, and have to keep putting down a foot to stabilize myself. We were also pedaling very slowly and close together, adding to my stress and balance concerns.

Riding through the jungle areas, it was easy to forget the heart of Bangkok was just a stone’s throw away. The vegetation was lush and dense, and sounds of nature filled the air. In the village areas, it was fun to see a slice of life different from our everyday reality. People smiled at us and said hello. Kids waved. Roosters crowed, and ducks frolicked in puddles. One guy was taking a shower with his garden hose. Traffic got a little hectic for a bit.

Unfortunately, the insane amount of plastic waste dumped in the waterways served as a bleak reality check. Known as the green lung of Bangkok, Bang Krachao fights the same battles as the rest of the city when it comes to balancing nature and humanity.

We paused at a coffee shop for a short break, and I enjoyed chatting with others in the group. I met a scientist who writes about honeybees, a book editor, a businesswoman with a multinational company, a semi-retired lady, and more. In our international education bubble, it’s so rare that we talk to people who aren’t teachers.

At the end of the ride, the group gathered at a remote little restaurant for dinner, but a few of us opted to head back to town rather than risk riding in the dark without headlamps. We found our way to the pier, returned the bikes, and caught the ferry. All very easy!

Bangkok Vegetarian Festival Delivers

I love a food festival, but as a vegetarian, I usually face limited options. Not this week! My own little neighborhood and Bangkok’s bustling Chinatown celebrated the nine-day Tesagan Gin Je Festival, an annual event that honors the Taoist Nine Emperor Gods with a strict vegan diet.

The festival occurs annually during the ninth lunar month of the Chinese calendar. This year’s event wraps up today. According to the Thailand Now website:

The Thai Vegetarian Festival is believed to have originated in Phuket, specifically the district of Kathu. The origin story begins in 1825, when a Chinese opera troupe visited the Andaman Pearl, and a few members fell hopelessly ill. 

In a desperate attempt to protect its members, the rest of the group maintained an exclusively vegan diet out of respect to the Nine Emperor Gods of Taoism, thought to have the power to heal illnesses. Whether by coincidence or divine veganism, the Chinese opera troupe recovered and the rest is history.

As the story spread, so did the belief that the Nine Emperor Gods visit earth to bless people during this festival. The rest of the year, they take their places as stars in the Big Dipper constellation.

During the festival, street vendors and restaurants hang yellow flags to indicate their vegetarian offerings. My first taste of the festival occurred Thursday in the neighborhood near my house. My Thai friend, Oon, took me to a Chinese temple, where volunteers were serving free vegetarian food three times a day.

We took a moment to light incense at the big golden Buddha, his round tummy making him distinctively Chinese compared to the slender Thai Buddha. Then Oon collected several bowls of food and brought them to me at a table. I had low expectations, considering this food was produced assembly line style. However, everything was delicious! I don’t really know what I ate other than noodles, veggies, rice, spicy papaya salad, and some tasty soup. After eating, we washed our own dishes, which seemed only fair.

I dropped a few baht in the donation box, chatted a bit with temple volunteers, and posed for a few photos. People seemed surprised that I eat vegetarian all the time. Local Buddhists generally go veg only on “Thai Buddhist Day” once a week.

On our way out, Oon grabbed a bag of snacks from a street vendor displaying the yellow flag. The snacks looked like deep-fried vegetable fritters, and they came with a lip-smacking sauce.

Eating unfamiliar food can be a stressful experience, so it’s always nice to have a person in the know to lead the way. Was I ready to face an even bigger food festival without Oon? There was only one way to find out.

Tony and I took the metro to Yaowarat, Bangkok’s Chinatown, Saturday afternoon and emerged into throngs of tourists. We wandered a bit until we came across hundreds of food stalls adorned with yellow flags. Faced with such a plethora of options, I couldn’t make any decisions. Plus we were melting in the heat. We paused to check out a temple and a shrine, and then finally I felt ready to commit.

We purchased some food and then tucked behind the vendors’ stalls, where tables and stools were set up for diners. Everything was fantastic, although our mouths nearly caught fire from Tony’s mystery dish.

We decided to pop into a restaurant to put our mouth fires out with some cold beer. The air conditioning was divine, so we ended up ordering dim sum as well. Seemed a little indulgent considering all the fabulous festival food just beyond the door, but the AC won out.

As we headed back out to the street, we felt a few rain drops, and we had just flagged down a reluctant taxi driver when the deluge started. We got out of there in the nick of time, although we still wondered whether we’d make it home. The driver sighed and groaned and complained for almost an hour, understandably, as he slowly navigated through flooded streets and near zero visibility.

What a relief to get home with a full heart and a fuller belly.

Horses + Nature = Much Needed Getaway to Chaowanat Horse Farm

As our fall break approached, I knew I wanted to spend some time in nature. I also missed the presence of horses in my life. Fortunately, a friend recommended a perfect option: Chaowanat Horse Farm, a picturesque retreat located along a river and surrounded by low mountains, just a 3-hour drive away.

This was the view from our room. My plan was to sit on the deck all day with a book and a beer, but there were no chairs (or beers). The wooden bench that surrounded the deck was crawling with thousands of massive orange ants. Not very inviting.

The property featured a cozy restaurant and coffee shop, a massive garden, the stables, an arena, and plenty of green spaces. The owner was out of town, so his son checked us in to our room. I told him we wanted to plan some excursions, and he suggested it would be nearly impossible to get a taxi to pick us up. That was discouraging. We had hired a driver to take us to the farm, and after he left, we realized we were about 40 minutes from Kanchaburi town.

We booked a horse ride for the next morning but discovered we couldn’t go tubing on the river because the water level was too low. I was getting a little cranky.

Tony and I lounged around the restaurant for a bit, ate lunch, went for a walk, checked out the horses, and then wandered back to the room. “I know what I need from this break, and I’m afraid I’m not going to get it,” I told him. I didn’t want to sit on the bed in an over airconditioned room for four days.

The next morning we met our cowboy guide, Ek, and our horses. Tony rode a stallion named Diamond, and I rode a gelding named Spicy. Ek told us they were American Quarterhorses. Something in my head shifted the minute I landed in the saddle. Horse energy gets me every time, and despite his name, Spicy was a sweet and gentle soul.

Ek led us out of the farm along muddy paths throughout the countryside. To be honest, Tony and I thought we were seeing marijuana plants. Thailand recently legalized weed, so we innocently assumed it was a cash crop. It’s clearly not an area of expertise for us. Ek clarified that the plants were actually cassava, one of Thailand’s major export products. If you’re as clueless about cassava as I was, check this out.

As we passed this herd of cattle, Ek laughed about how horses and cows in Thailand get spooked by each other. Ek had traveled to Texas once and appreciated that cowboy lifestyle. “No cutting here,” he laughed, referring to the use of horses to round up individual cows in a herd. Side note: How much do you love the floppy ears on these cows?

We emerged in a big meadow at one point, where Ek dismounted and hunkered down behind a clump of flowers.

“Go!” he shouted to us.

“Go where?” we asked each other.

We aimlessly wandered around until he finally got back on his horse and took the lead. A similar thing happened when we reached the river. “Go!” he shouted.

“Are we crossing the river?” I asked.

“No cross. Just go,” he said.

We clomped around in the shallow water, let the horses take a drink, and watched a little boy from the farm splash around. It was confusing.

Later, we realized Ek was taking photos and video of us. We were hopelessly noncompliant models. In retrospect, it was kind of hilarious. There are videos where we are just sitting still, staring at him. I’m sure he expected us to prance around a bit and exhibit some level of drama. Lesson learned.

As we were riding back to the farm, I said to Tony, “You know how I said I wasn’t getting what I needed from this break? Well, I’m getting it now!” I’m sure he was relieved.

After spending the next day touring some nearby sights, we headed back to Bangkok a day early, not because of any fault with the horse farm. It was bad planning on my part not to realize how isolated we would be.

The experience of travel can feel like one rookie mistake after another, even when you’ve been wandering the earth as long as we have. Each new place poses a learning curve. Fortunately, living abroad provides opportunities for a re-do. We definitely want to revisit this area of Thailand, but next time we’ll drive ourselves, stay somewhere with comfortable outdoor seating, and spend a day back at Chaowanat for a little horse time.

By the way, after checking out Chaonawat’s Instagram, I now realize we dropped the ball. We should have dressed up for lovely shots like this. Oh well, next time.

Lush beauty abounds at Erawan Falls

Without our own mode of transportation during our stay in Kanchanaburi, we decided to book a tour to visit two local attractions: Erawan Falls and the Bridge on the River Kwai.

Our guide, Naa, was a bundle of energy and super keen to snap gajillions of photos for us (when did travel get so Instagrammy?). We made a quick stop at the Srinagarind Dam, which is used to regulate the flow of the Kwae Yai River and to produce hydroelectric power.

From there, we traveled a short distance to Erawan National Park to explore the Erawan Falls. The 5-kilometer roundtrip hike includes seven tiers of waterfalls.

Naa said we were on a tight schedule, so we prioritized hiking over swimming. She figured we would only have time to get to the 5th level, but clearly she didn’t realize there was no way I would leave without getting to the top! She posed us for a couple shots before sending us off on our own.

Apparently some hikers leave traditional Thai clothes as an offering to the forest spirits and ghosts.

We were impressed with the well-maintained paved trail, which Naa told us was built during the pandemic. Previously, hikers had to make the trek on slippery dirt paths. The hike was hard enough with the luxury of steep stairs; I can’t imagine doing this in the mud!

By this point, I would have loved to jump in the water. Tony and I were dripping with sweat, but I was determined to reach the 7th waterfall.

I did it! Tony stopped just short of the top. (Who does that?!) We had to hustle to get back down the hill in time because I still wanted to stick my feet in the water.

We agreed that this fabulous place deserved a whole day. Next time, we’ll pack a lunch, rent the required life jacket, and pause for a dip at each of the pools.

Back down at pool #3, a little school of fish waited patiently for some delicious foot skin to chomp. I had previously visited a fish spa, where tiny guppies nibbled at my heels. This was different. Look at the size of those guys! It felt awesome until they went for my arches, which tickled enough to trigger a shriek.

At the end of our hike, we met Naa and grabbed some lunch. Tony and I changed into dry clothes, and then we took off for the next part of our tour: the Death Railway.

The Death Railway – a dark, albeit Instagrammable, history lesson

In 1942, the Japanese were on a roll. Within a few months of its surprise attack on Pearl Harbor, Japan had taken Singapore, defeated Allied units throughout the Malay peninsula, and pushed back British and Chinese forces to occupy Burma. However, as Japan prepared to invade India that June, the U.S. Navy scored a huge win with the Battle of Midway, making supply routes between Japan and Burma vulnerable.

Looking for another way to keep the supply of materials and reinforcements flowing to the frontlines, Japan opted to build an overland railway using forced labor, including an estimated 60,000 Allied prisoners of war and another 200,000 Southeast Asian civilians. Workers blasted away mountains, built bridges and embankments, and laid 258 miles of track through dense mosquito-infested jungle. They suffered from starvation, disease, torture, and harsh labor.

More than 16,000 POWs and 90,000 civilians died in the brutal conditions during the railway’s construction. Many British, Australian, and Dutch victims were buried at the Kanchanaburi War Cemetery, while the bodies of U.S. casualties were shipped home.

The 1957 movie, “The Bridge on the River Kwai,” brought notoriety to the railway, and tourists still flock to the area to ride the train. The actual bridge from the movie doesn’t exist, but people pay tribute at the Bridge on River Khwai Yai in Kanchanaburi. Tony and I were woefully clueless about the railway’s history before visiting, but our guide, Naa, provided a lot of information.

After learning what had transpired here, it was a bit disconcerting to see tourists sitting cross-legged on the tracks, making peace signs and grinning for the camera as they waited for the train to arrive.

We rode the train for about an hour through verdant countryside to reach the famous bridge and bid farewell to our guide. After a carefree morning of romping around the national park, the railway provided a sobering reminder of the area’s darker history.

This cave next to the train station was used by the Japanese during construction of the railway.

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At the Bridge on the River Kwai, which has experienced some post-war upgrades.