Mathew Biadun | Column Writer
American holidays are, unsurprisingly, not very well celebrated in Thailand. There was no Memorial Day in September or Veterans Day in November. Halloween was celebrated, but only as an occasion for students to party and for 7/11s to sell candy. Thanksgiving does not exist. But in its place as a November holiday with deep cultural roots, the Thai do have Loy Krathong.
Loy Krathong is a nation-wide holiday, although its most famous festival takes place in the northern city of Chiang Mai. Bangkok, in all of its modern splendor and wealth, does not often feel foreign or old. But Chiang Mai certainly does. While Bangkok is younger than the United States, Chiang Mai was founded 150 years before the final fall of Rome. There are over three hundred temples in the city, and it was once the capital of the great state of Lanna. The historical core of the city is found within a square moat and old walls that once protected the city against any would-be invaders.
That is not to say that Chiang Mai is behind-the-times. It is a city with all the same internet, electricity, Grab taxis and 7/11s that Bangkok has. It even has its own international university. But despite having the same things, there is a stark contrast in how modernity has grown here. Whereas modernity went through Bangkok, which often feels like a historic city that had been sapped of its culture and transformed into another modern, urban, cold metropolis, Chiang Mai retains its history. Here, the city feels more like modernity grew around it, managing to retain a starkly historical, traditional ambience that Bangkok has lost.
Chiang Mai had been a must-see for my visit, being the definitive ‘second-city’ of Thailand. With over three hundred temples, old walls, hikes and markets, there was a lot to do. Originally, I hoped to also see Chiang Rai; a neighboring city famous in its own right for tourists. However, Chiang Mai simply had too much to see on its own in the two days we had there.
Loy Krathong in Chiang Mai is no mere celebration. It is a hub of international tourism. The streets are teeming with all races and peoples; particularly the French and German, but also a great number of Chinese and others. It would not be surprising if tourists outnumbered the Thai two-to-one. The great mass of backpackers and explorers was exciting; but it caused problems.
A plane from Bangkok to Chiang Mai would normally cost around sixty dollars. For this weekend, however? It was two hundred and fifty dollars; the same price as a flight to Taiwan. Demand outstretched supply. Instead of flying, we took a bus for ten hours. It was twenty dollars more expensive than the round-trip sleeper train to Laos had been ($40, rather than $20). But even if it was infinitely less comfortable than a plane, it was infinitely more comfortable than the train, and so we enjoyed it.
The bus was accommodating; but our accommodations failed to accommodate us.
An hour before we boarded the bus, my booking called, saying that our reservation at a guest house had been canceled. Overbooking. Initially they reassured me they’d be able to find me an alternative. But just ten minutes later, an apologetic email read that there were no alternatives, and pitifully gave me a refund. What came next was ten fruitless hours of trying to find an accommodation. Everything was full, full, full! All the hostels, motels and AirBnBs in town. All that were left were places fifteen kilometers outside of the city or hotels going for $200 a night. When we arrived, we still had no housing. Instead we sluggishly walked from hostel to hostel, hotel to hotel, asking for any open rooms in the hopes we could find something. But there was truly nothing left. The city was at capacity, and we were squeezed out. In the end, we were forced to go to an expensive hotel and pay sixty dollars a night, when my guesthouse had been fifty dollars for three nights.
Travel is never perfect. On occasions like these, one has to roll with the punches. While I briefly considered sleeping in a laundromat, the hotel was what it was, and we took it. Thankfully, the financial brunt was dulled through a four-way split, even if it still pricked.
After collapsing into bed, the next morning was finally spent in the city itself. What a city it was! Temples made of gold and marble, their walls sprawling with Buddhist mosaics. Some were in the heart of the old city, while another required a hike through the forest to reach its waterfall-perched locale. Ribbons of marigold, lotuses and other flowers were strung everywhere, along with an infinite menagerie of colorful lanterns. No inch of the city was quiet, and none boring, for this was Loy Krathong.
Loy Krathong is a religious holiday, worshiping the river goddess following the main harvest season of the year. Buddhists will go to the temples to pray, light incense and give offerings in a process of prayer known as ‘making merit’. The two most iconic traditions are the krathongs - bundles of leaves, flowers and candles that floated down the river - and the lanterns. The lanterns were made of paper, with wire holding them together and keeping a piece of highly-flammable honeycomb in the center. Once lit, the honeycomb released hot air that became trapped in the lantern. The lanterns rose, filling the night sky like a billion burly fireflies.
Releasing the lanterns in the city has actually become illegal in the past few years. The problem is inherent in the lanterns’ design. Once the honeycomb burns out, or the fire goes out, the lanterns simply descend back towards the ground. Can one imagine what that would look like, for a city one million strong to have so many lanterns descending down on it? The mess of rubbish along the rivers, roads and roofs of the city would block up every infrastructural artery the city had. Not to mention what should happen if one of the lanterns were to hit a power line or something comparable.
Instead, tourists and locals are free to go outside the city limits to light lanterns. We went to a lake, one that had quickly taken on a carnival like atmosphere. There was a stage blaring music, stands offering food and drink, and even small roller coasters for little children to ride. We lit our lanterns and krathongs, and watched the fires blossom into the night, relishing the time spent with good friends and food.
Two days was too little, true. No time for other nearby towns like Chiang Rai, and not enough time to see everything. But we saw the highlights. The best temples, the iconic dishes, the Loy Krathong festival. It is rare that you will be able to experience everything. Instead, it is important to leave the city not full but at least content, and that we did.
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