Another side of my trip to Thailand: Villages, nature, countryside, mountains...

February 9th is a pivotal day during my trip to Thailand. Up until this date, my focus had been on cities, temples, and other urban landmarks. Starting February 10th, I’ll finally leave the city behind for the outskirts—one town, one life, farther from tourism, more real, more authentic... Then comes the bucolic surroundings of Chiang Mai, nature, the countryside, the mountains.

This morning, I head to visit the ethnographic museum. I’d been told about another one, but it’s permanently closed. I wonder if it’s the same one that might have changed its name and location.

I thoroughly enjoy visiting this museum. At first, I’m a bit annoyed because the place is packed with noisy school groups blocking the display cases without even showing the slightest interest. But soon, their chaperones manage to lead them into another room, giving me some peace. They maintain this distance throughout the tour, allowing me to explore the museum in complete tranquility. I really appreciate their tact.

I’m amazed by the absolutely stunning fabric displays and the countless everyday objects, especially the very old pottery. There’s so much beautiful basketry and intricately carved wood. The statues are also incredible... After seeing all of them, I no longer feel like buying any from the shops.

On my way back, not far from my hotel, I discover a rather unique place that only serves one drink, which they’ve made their specialty: egg coffee! A pretty surprising novelty. I have to try it.



At the bottom of the cup, they pour a layer of milk, topped with a layer of liquid coffee, followed by a layer of egg yolk, and finally a top layer that turns out to be a mix of coffee and cocoa powder. It’s a cold drink that, in the end, doesn’t have much flavor, and the price is pretty steep for such a small cup. You’re paying for the exclusivity!

Later in the day, I venture once again into small alleys, something I love doing when exploring a new city—no specific goal, just wandering east of the city, outside the walls.



I encounter very few tourists there and discover unsuspected little shops overflowing with lovely items, much cheaper than what you find in the heart of the tourist district. Then I wander through the floors of Warorot Market. I discover another kind of temple there: the temple of good deals. I love finding clothes that are really original for locals, not the flood of shirts and pants that tourists love but no Thai would ever buy, which invade the shops in the "Historic Square." I stop in my tracks in front of a stall with beautiful shirts featuring stunning geometric patterns in elegant color combinations and very short sleeves. Hmm, these would be perfect for showing off my biceps, one of which is adorned with the magnificent Ganesh tattoo I got last year in Bali. "When you’ve got nice things, you’ve got to show them off!" he said. 😜🙏💪 I pick out two for 380 baht and negotiate them down to 300. But the seller won’t go any lower. I understand I’ve reached the limit of her commercial possibilities. Just as I’m leaving the shop, happy with my purchase, my ever-helpful inner voice, Petite Voix, suggests: - You didn’t try them on because you were too lazy to take off the one you’re wearing and also because of the sweat, but you could just put one on over the one you’re wearing. It’s light enough that it won’t bother you.

I go back to the two sellers, who burst out laughing when I ask to try them on. - Oh no, it’s way too small for you! It’s a women’s shirt! - But they don’t look particularly feminine in style! And I chose XXL... I put the shirt on, and of course, it won’t close. Then I notice the buttons are on the wrong side. That’s why the sleeves seemed so short!!! They put the shirts back on the rack and refund me without any fuss, commenting amid total hilarity: - Well, thank goodness you tried it on just as you were leaving the shop!

Since I don’t want to walk too much before tomorrow’s first Big Outing with the driver, I end my stroll with a visit to two very pretty temples recommended by Joël.



I’d rather not post more temple photos. But these ones smell like village and countryside...







I’ve never seen anything like Wat Ket Karam, so extravagant...





And I end my day with two other lesser-known temples: Wat Noung Kham, simple and finally free of gold and glitter,



and Wat Dap Phai, where an intimate ceremony is taking place at the end of the day.

We don’t know the criteria for decorating Buddhist temples in Thailand... it looks like "anything goes as long as it attracts people and thus donations." They really went all out with the Manneken Pis presiding over it. 🤪 I won’t say it’s one of the most beautiful temples in Chiang Mai! No wonder Thai Buddhism is drowning in financial scandals and other issues... but religions go off the rails everywhere, not just in Thailand.

I was amazed by the flower festival floats—I regret missing that during my trips.

I’m also a fan of Warorot Market, where I bought various kitchen utensils.

All the best.

@Gaura such a relevant point! 🙂 After all, was there ever an instruction manual back in the day, a construction guide in the Middle Ages just to build Notre-Dame de Paris? It’s more like syncretism that shapes the world. I really like this quick definition I found: Fusion of different cults or religious doctrines.

Otherwise, thanks to Marien33—it’s a really interesting travel journal.

Then comes the bucolic surroundings of Chiang Mai, nature, the countryside, the mountains...

When? Can't wait...😉

Then comes the bucolic surroundings of Chiang Mai, nature, the countryside, the mountains...

When? Can't wait...😉

“Everything comes to those who wait.” This saying goes way back too—it’s attributed to François Rabelais in the 16th century...😉

I wouldn't say it's one of the most beautiful temples in Chiang Mai!

Yes, sure, but amidst all the gaudy gold and glitter of most of the temples I've visited, all those colors and extravagance actually lifted me out of a certain gloominess...

I was amazed by the flower festival floats—I regret missing that during my trips.

And, unfortunately for you, I mostly made videos that I still don’t know how to upload here...

I’m also a fan of Warorot Market, where I bought various kitchen utensils.

I really love picking up all these kitchen tools I discover in India or, this time, in Thailand—things you just can’t find (or can’t find anymore) in France. And between Warorot Market and Chatuchak Market, I’ll let you guess which one won my heart... To the point that I went there several times—and on foot, despite the distance...[;]

Thanks to Marien33 for such an interesting travel journal.

I seriously doubt it, seeing the silence and indifference toward a journal that’s wrapping up and another that’s just beginning. But out of respect for you, my few loyal readers, I’ll force myself to keep going. Though I’m really discouraged by wasting so much time... I’d be better off spending my time on my personal blog, which I’ve neglected for so long to write here and is completely abandoned, and start writing there again

everything comes to those who wait (...)François Rabelais

Actually, he would have written "tout vient à point qui sait attendre" (no second "à", as the French of that era allowed, and two "à"s so close together in a sentence by an author would have been somewhat graceless...), or even, according to some sources, "tout vient à point qui peut attendre". The second "à" was only added to the proverb in the 18th-19th century. In my opinion, it’s not certain that coming from Rabelais, "à point" had only one meaning...

Other sources also attribute the phrase to Clément Marot, a guy from the same era.

But I’m really discouraged about wasting so much time...

If you already enjoy writing it, you’re not wasting your time.

I mainly made videos that I still don’t know how to upload here...

Are you sure the forum technically allows it? Otherwise, uploading your videos to YouTube and copying the resulting link here would work—I just tried it with someone else’s random video, and it shows up fine.

Everything comes to those who wait (...)François Rabelais

Actually, he would have written "tout vient à point qui sait attendre" (no second "à", as the French of the time allowed it, and two "à"s so close together in an author's sentence would have been somewhat graceless...), or even, according to some sources, "tout vient à point qui peut attendre". The second "à" was only added to the proverb in the 18th-19th century. In my opinion, it's not certain that, coming from Rabelais, "à point" had only one meaning...

Other sources also attribute the phrase to Clément Marot, a guy from the same era.

That’s a very kind lesson. Thanks... I’ve known all this for a long time, being a *agrégé* in Literature and, at one time, a specialist in 16th-century authors, but I wasn’t going to come here and show off...

I’ve updated my previous reply.

Are you sure the forum technically allows it?

No, I’m not sure at all. But I noticed that our friend Jojoone1 embedded lots of videos in his travel journals, and it wasn’t just about clicking a link. They appeared directly in his text.

Otherwise, uploading your videos to YouTube and copying the resulting link here would work—I just tried it with someone else’s random video, and it shows up fine.

I’ll give it a shot, but I think you need a YouTube account, and I’m not too keen on that...

I’ll try, but I think you need to open a YouTube account, and I’m not too keen on that...

Yes, you do, but I totally get why you wouldn’t want to—I’ve always refused to sign up myself and just watch other people’s videos.

When you use the YouTube method, the video shows up in your post like this example (I’ll remove it later):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FtHbteCeyQ

Hi Marien

Indifferent? No, I check every day to see if..... Same here, I click on your blog to see if.....

Sure, I’m quiet—like many, I think—but I don’t want to be repetitive or overly praising.... always holding back, old-school manners and all!

Best,

Calaf

I really appreciate the humorous and clever nod in choosing this video! ;) Thanks so much...

But we definitely shouldn’t delete this video... it really fits in with the discussion here.

Hi Marien

Indifferent? No, I check every day to see if... Same here, I click on your blog to see if...

Sure, I’m quiet—like many, I think—but I don’t want to be repetitive or overly praising... always holding back, old-school manners and all!

Best,

Calaf

Yes, yes, I know... Thanks so much! My blog is unfortunately completely abandoned... I really need to get back to it...

Yes, I already replied to you a few months ago about posting videos. Back then, I’d done some research and only found the option to go through YT, which, by the way, never pushed me to do anything or caused any issues.

Today I’m making my first outing with the driver, but it’s starting off really badly. After waiting for half an hour, I decide to call him. He apologizes profusely, explaining he mixed up the date. On Saturday, when I ran into him by chance at the Flower Festival, he left me with a “see you Monday” after I reminded him about our meet-up.

He must’ve had too much to drink or smoke last night. So we swap it with another outing. He suggests taking me to Lamphun.

Not long after leaving the hotel, I get a sudden urgent need to pee. - Can we find a Seven/Eleven or a temple along the way? I really need to go! But we’re on a four-lane road with few places to stop. I have to explain my situation: - In the morning, I drink a lot of tea and coffee—it’s very diuretic—and until around 11 a.m., I have to empty my bladder four or five times... In Chiang Mai, it was easy—temples are everywhere, and every temple has (very clean) toilets... - We can’t stop here; I’ll take you to my place... Toilets at the back of the courtyard... But not as spotless as in the temples... This detour wasn’t planned... I’m not invited inside the house...

Like our friend Songsam today, I’m eager to finally get out into nature, completely fed up with temples. Yet here I am, dragged into visiting Wat Phra That Hariphunchai against my will. I’ll spare you the details and the sight of its stunning gilded decorations gleaming in the sun under a crystal-clear blue sky... Very few people around, just a few devoted worshippers.

I’m happy to take a bunch of photos.



What I love about photography is that no shot is ever the same as the one before or after... I never get tired of taking photos, always trying to add a new creative touch... I won’t post them here because I want to save enough “countryside” shots for our friend Songsam.

As I leave, my stomach growling with hunger, I realize I’ve spent no less than two hours wandering around the sacred grounds.



As usual, I skipped breakfast, so it’s time to fix that. Unfortunately, despite the touristy location, there’s only a simple roadside stall offering two or three uninteresting dishes. I gulp down my soup just to avoid hypoglycemia... Then comes a crucial moment: When I ask the driver to take me to the Terracotta Garden, he’s about to head back to Chiang Mai, insisting there’s nothing else to see in Lamphun. Despite our long-discussed and negotiated agreement, he’s trying to impose changes because, truth be told, he doesn’t know how to get where I want to go.

I’ll have to show him it’s me who’s in charge, not him. I’ll have to assert my authority, and I hate confrontations of any kind. In these situations with drivers, I pay for the first outing or half of it and don’t contact them again. *Get lost, I’ll find someone else.* But this one was hard enough to find. Plus, I’ve already paid half the “deal.” It’s going to be an even worse discussion to get a refund.

- You don’t have much choice, my little voice says. You’ve got to stand your ground and show you’re tougher than him. So I stick out my chin, furrow my brow, and snap in a tone that brooks no argument: - Listen, it’s barely 1 p.m. We left late because you weren’t on time. We can consider your first day already paid. I’m the boss, not you. THERE’S NO WAY WE’RE GOING BACK TO THE HOTEL BEFORE 6 P.M.! He’s stunned—the gentle sheep who lets himself be pushed around has turned into a snarling dog... He stammers... Pulls out his translator: - But where do you want to go? I don’t know this place you’re talking about... I’ve never heard of it... It’s not on my GPS... - Well, let’s try mine...

Of course, it pops up immediately... It’s not exactly nearby—7 km from Lamphun. And the site isn’t right by the road. But we spot a gorgeous palm-lined avenue leading us there. He’s amazed...



I start snapping away. Stunning terracotta statues, more lifelike than real life, line a magnificent pond on our right, while a grand portico welcomes us into the grounds.



Turns out it’s a restaurant. I didn’t realize that. The place is magical! So rural, so bucolic, so peaceful in a stunning setting. The tables are cleverly placed amid the greenery, scattered across a space large enough that you’re not bothered by other guests. And though there are plenty of customers, I don’t notice them at first—they’re hidden by trees and shrubs. You feel like you’re in the middle of the jungle!



- I want to eat here! - But you already had a meal after the temple! - It wasn’t good... And not enough... Plus, this place is idyllic—I want to sit here for a bit. - It must be expensive... I feel like telling him it’s none of his business since I’m still in a bad mood after our argument. But I swallow my harsh words and say with a big smile: - This might be the only luxury of my trip. I’ve been really frugal in Bangkok, saved on transport... That’s why I can afford your services.

Unfortunately, I don’t see any free tables. They’re all taken by well-off locals or Asian tourists (I can never tell them apart). Not a single Westerner! He’s the one who spots a table that just freed up, a bit off to the side... Suddenly, I feel like a rich guy. Luckily, I’m not in shorts or flip-flops. Not my style. (I’ve never worn them on this trip—I didn’t think it was the right setting...)

A beautiful menu with artistic, mouthwatering photos. It’s not village-restaurant cheap like in Lamphun, but it’s not excessive for my budget either. You pay for the setting, and it’s worth every baht. Still, I struggle to find a Thai dish. The menu seems more European-leaning, even outright French, like this “Pork chop with cream (400g).” I wonder how a pork chop can weigh 400g...

That’s the only disappointment of the place...

I go for rice with shrimp cooked in a more Indian than Thai sauce, but I love it. It’s absolutely divine! I can’t not offer him a dish. But he declines: - There are no local dishes... And I already ate in Lamphun... I order dessert. For him too. But he refuses again. I make him accept... I don’t understand the menu’s explanations. It said: Jasmine Rice. So I expected something solid... When the bowl arrives, it’s filled with a clear liquid like water, packed with ice (as always!). I taste it... It’s amazingly good! I never figured out what it was...

After eating, I wander through the garden again, snapping photos endlessly—there’s just so much to capture.



I notice the driver deep in conversation with a man who seems to work there maintaining the plants. He keeps glancing at me, surprised by how many photos I’m taking... He’s gathered some info... Proudly, he announces: - The Terracotta Garden is a private project by an art company specializing in terracotta products inspired by Khmer and Chinese art.

As we leave the garden proper, he heads straight for his car, but his disappointed look tells me he’s not happy about my wish to see what’s on the other side of the pond, where a magnificent chedi stands, visible through the lush vegetation.

This place seems unfinished in parts. Most structures, like the Khmer-style chedi and the pond, must’ve been there longer. A bamboo bridge leads me to the most spectacular structure: a Khmer-style chedi that could’ve come from Cambodia or northeastern Thailand. Statues, ornaments, and construction materials are scattered around.



I don’t see any workers around. Around the pond stretches a built-up area in Khmer style. I’d love to wander more and visit the production workshop to see the artists at work, but everything’s closed... I linger a bit longer, admiring the beautiful landscapes by the pond.





I often don’t understand Asian logic, and even less that of drivers. Today’s no exception—he takes me back to Lamphun... - I want to show you a temple you didn’t see this morning... It’s actually another part of Wat Phra That Hariphunchai that I missed during my morning visit.

On the way back, when I see the massive traffic jams between his place and the city, I understand his worry about getting back late—especially since he’d have to drive from my hotel to his place... But after all, that’s part of his job.

I get the feeling that drivers in Thailand are just like in India. They’re used to tourists who follow a set script, to whom they suggest (or rather, impose) a stereotypical outing. They always take them to the same places they’ve known for years, where they can meet up with driver buddies to chat while the tourist wanders around... They’re not used to clients showing up with their own itinerary, saying: *I want to go here, here, and here*—often to places they’ve never heard of. I’ve always had this issue with drivers in India. And they really don’t like it when you don’t want to follow their usual route... Especially because they don’t know how to estimate the price or duration since they don’t know the itinerary. That’s exactly what happened with this driver.

I'd like to edit my post (a photo), but when I click on Options -> Edit a post, it shows up in red and bold: Sorry, the post you're trying to reach doesn't exist. It was probably deleted. Same thing happens if I click on Reply to... And so, I can't send a new message. This has been happening since Saturday with some intermittent periods that allowed me to send the above message this morning. I spent hours working on that post yesterday afternoon, and when I tried to send it last night, it was impossible. I managed to do it this morning, but now it's happening again. Are you experiencing this issue too? Yesterday, I received this message from the VF team: As we told you yesterday, we're experiencing technical issues. The developers are doing their best to fix them.

Unless I'm mistaken, you can only edit a reply within 2 hours of initially posting it, so you're now out of time.

That said:

The "Sorry, the message you're trying to reach doesn't exist. It was probably deleted."—I’ve been seeing that pretty often lately too, and after a while (sometimes longer, sometimes shorter), it goes back to normal and the post reappears. It also happens to me quite often (daily, usually toward the end of the day) when I click on any topic (either on its title or on the pair of quotation marks to the right that take you directly to the last reply), no matter the section—I end up on a completely different topic that the forum seems fixated on, and there’s no way to get anywhere else. This usually lasts for about one to two hours.

So it seems the forum is having some bug issues.

I reported my previous reply so it can be read by the appropriate person.

If we look at the number of visitors and members online, the counter hasn't changed in a while and still shows the same numbers. I hope VF finds the IT specialist they're currently looking for.

Unless I'm mistaken, you can only edit a reply within 2 hours of posting it, so you're too late now.

No, not on travel journals. On travel journals, the option is permanent. You can edit or delete anytime

We confirm the current bugs. We're doing our best with the available developers, unfortunately during the peak summer season.

Hi, sorry for the delay. I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of things to sort out and haven’t had much time to drop by VF. In the meantime, I received this private message in response to my report about my driver.

drivers and their usual tricks—a problem that’s followed me all over Asia, every time I’ve taken a car: in India, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, Myanmar, Cambodia, Thailand, and the worst, Mongolia!

Not many people ask about it, in my personal opinion. They don’t know the roads or alternatives to traffic jams. It takes them way more concentration to drive. It’s exhausting. And since you’re the paying customer, you obviously have to insist on sticking to your own itinerary.

In Myanmar, I found drivers, but it took me 4 days to find one who’d take me where I wanted to go!

One of my drivers in Kochi refused to leave Kerala, turning down long-distance trips for a 2-day detour to TN or KA—missing out on Kerala rice, apparently.

But I’ve also seen a driver cry with joy when he discovered a piece of land he’d never seen before… though only after a good scolding… on the road from Jammu to Dharamsala

After a day of rest yesterday, visiting... What exactly?... More temples... I just can’t help myself... Today’s the big day—the getaway I’ve been waiting for over six months... The waterfalls of Doi Inthanon National Park. They were recommended by a traveler who wants to stay anonymous... He kept telling me over and over that he only wanted to share his secret with me... So, to respect his wishes, I’ll stay vague about the route and the name of these “secret” waterfalls. Not so secret after all, really. 😉 From what I understood, the secret lies in how you approach them, in a very specific order. Since we agreed, I’d carefully explained the route to the driver—the names of the waterfalls and the direction I wanted to explore them...

We’d arranged to meet at 7 a.m. This time, not only was he on time, but he showed up fifteen minutes early... - The day will be long... he warned me. And sure enough, we set off at 7:05... I’d set up my camera to take photos along the way. By choosing a fast shutter priority—1/2000th or even 1/2500th—I could snap away with the window down... Another thing drivers don’t like—most prefer to blast the AC, roll up the windows, and speed along as fast as the road allows... I wasn’t sure how my Thai driver would react, but Indian drivers, for example, love to just drive, drive, drive without stopping for a photo every kilometer. And I get it. Unfortunately, when the road is stunning and breathtaking the whole way, and you see a new view with every turn, it’s frustrating for a photographer not to be able to stop.

That’s why I adjusted my settings this way. A lot of photos end up being tossed, but many turn out extraordinary. Sometimes you get a shot with a big power line, a rock, or a tree right in the middle. But other times, you stumble upon something magical—like a shepherd, an old villager, or a child—whose face appears in your lens without you even trying, beautiful and alive, just as remarkable as a portrait you’d spend ages setting up, yet without capturing the truth of a glance, a smile, or a wrinkle on their forehead...

If it were up to me, my travel journals would only have text, maybe the occasional photo... But while a *Dolma* might love that kind of journal, many people prefer lots of photos—sometimes with barely any text, or just a word or two. In that case, it’s more of a photo album than a journal... Personally, I’d rather send my readers to check out my personal albums... Especially since they’ll find even more beautiful images there than mine. So, since photos are what they’re after, they might as well enjoy them to their heart’s content.

I’d imagined discovering, as we drove, the unusual and enchanting landscapes of a “postcard Thailand.” Nope! We took some kind of highway with no interest, monotonous and depressingly dull, and that’s how it was practically until we entered the park... Then we began a long climb up a road lined on both sides by what looked like walls of trees. When the curtains of vegetation parted now and then, I couldn’t help but think of the Himalayas—the Himachal Pradesh, Kashmir, Ladakh, Zanskar—so much more spectacular. Plus, it’s currently the season for deciduous leaves, like autumn back home. All you see are eerie forests filled with skeletal trees, no leaves in sight. No views. Disappointing.

We reached the first checkpoint... No payment required. - You pay at the second checkpoint, a little further... 300 baht, the driver tells me...

I appreciate that the price is the same for locals and foreigners. I can’t stand discrimination in any form... After paying, we drove on and passed a barrier, but no one checked us... - What’s the point of paying if they don’t even check?... - They’ll verify a few kilometers further when we reach the summit...

2565m

It’s really cold. I’m glad I brought my down jacket. The weather is beautiful, the sky an intense blue—almost Ladakh-blue. Unfortunately, a kind of haze floats on the horizon below the mountain. You can tell the panorama must be amazing, a 360° view of the valley, but today it’s completely swallowed by a thick sea of mist.

My disappointment doesn’t end there... When we arrive at the parking lot, I’m stunned by the number of cars already there, despite the early hour. I imagine it’s going to be a nightmare with all those people...

I suddenly feel like I’ve walked through the gates of a public park! I was expecting a place more like in India, in the Himalayas, or elsewhere in the mountains—a big parking lot, sure, with signs showing the altitude, maybe a food stand or two, but wide-open spaces, nature all around, trails leading off in every direction. Instead, it feels like we’ve arrived at a public garden. Not a blade of grass! Paved or asphalt paths through manicured spaces, artificial flowerbeds, and even a fake lake with a fake “old” bridge. It’s pretty, no denying that, but it’s artificial, overdone—just like the Thai tendency to go overboard with appearances. You’d never guess you’re in the middle of nature at the top of a mountain. No matter where you look, it’s nothing but chedis and modern buildings, monumental staircases—all so exaggerated for a mountaintop. I even spot an... escalator! To reach the final summit, where the Astronomical Observatory is. How could my friend, who knows my love for nature, recommend such a sophisticated, grandiose, and artificial place?... All that way, for... this! I could’ve cried in frustration.

The flowerbeds are gorgeous, but I didn’t come to Thailand to end up in a public park like any big French or European city, with everything perfectly lined up...



Now, as I write these lines, looking back at my photos and rereading my notes and messages to loved ones, I wonder if I was under some kind of spell—how else could I have kept saying I loved Thailand? So far, I’ve only found places that don’t satisfy me, that disorient me with their polished, sterile banality. It’s so far from the chaotic but natural, picturesque, and authentic India I love so much!

In the end, I’m not sure where all those car occupants are—there doesn’t seem to be a crowd, but maybe they’re in the religious buildings they love so much or in the little eateries and restaurants. Not everyone’s in the same place at the same time. I notice there are very few Western tourists—you could count them on one hand. Most visitors are Thai or possibly other Asian tourists.

Even though I take some beautiful photos of the flowerbeds, I don’t see the point in staying here. I’m eager to get to the waterfalls in nature, but first, I stop at one of the places the driver suggests for breakfast—mostly because he knows I’m desperate for a bathroom break in the mornings... I order a coffee—Nescafé instant, honestly terrible—and a plate of rice with pork that’s really not good. It’s not even spicy and has no flavor at all. It’s already past 10:30 when we get back to the car.

As we start descending, I see several signs pointing to waterfalls that remind me of the names my friend mentioned. The driver skips one or two—or at least, I get the impression he’s not following the route or the order of the waterfalls I’d given him based on my friend’s advice. The latter had recommended a very specific order. But since I don’t have my notes handy and can’t remember any of these Thai names, I say nothing. I don’t want to start arguing with him. I’ll have to ask my friend later why he’d planned such a particular route.

We reach the first waterfall—not the first on my list—at almost 12:30. You have to pay 200 baht. I don’t like natural places being taken over by some administrative service just to charge an entrance fee. That said, the fee seems justified because a guide is mandatory, and they lend you a sturdy bamboo stick for the hike. 😉 Now I get it. The driver is told I’ll be doing a 1.5-hour circuit and that he should pick me up further downstream.

This trek through the jungle is finally a real pleasure. Here, at last, we’re in nature, and I appreciate having a guide through this lush tropical forest—here, all the trees are in leaf. The young woman doesn’t speak English because she’s a local villager, and that’s fine by me. She’s very patient, letting me take photos. She points out and explains things I already know—trees, plants, flowers, and fruits that also exist in India, especially in Kerala. But at one point, she taps her bamboo stick toward “something” above my head while I’m photographing the surrounding vegetation. At first, I don’t see anything, and no matter how much she insists or how wide I open my eyes, I don’t understand what she’s trying to show me. I’m about to humor her by pretending to see it when, coiled around a branch just above my head, I recognize it from one of Joël’s (Jojoone1) travel journals—the orange eye, the sleek, elegant, and stunning body in its acrobatic emerald costume: the Asian lancehead, scientifically known as Trimeresurus albolabris https://www.nationalgeographic.fr/animaux/les-attaques-de-serpents-les-plus-spectaculaires#:~:text=LE%20FER%20DE%20LANCE%20ASIATIQUE, peu%20dangereux%20»—obviously wrong.



A beautiful green snake with strange orange eyes, extremely aggressive, highly venomous, but not deadly since there’s a specific antivenom. However, experts who’ve been bitten say it’s the most horribly painful bite imaginable. It blends right into the foliage. You’d think if a snake like that fell on you, you’d be done for.

Further on, the waterfall comes into view through the lush vegetation. It’s very beautiful, but completely in full sun with extreme brightness, the water so white from the strong current that I can’t get the settings right—shutter speed, aperture, ISO... Even with exposure compensation. I would’ve needed an ND filter, which I don’t have on my new camera. Luckily, its passage through the shade just before the drop lets me take a few nice shots. But the photos of the falls themselves are all ruined.



A little further, a surprise awaits me. The waterfall is even more spectacular, crashing down with such force that it creates a real cloud of water droplets that envelops and sprays you as you pass. The sight is impressive. It’s even riskier to take a photo without damaging the camera, especially since the bridge below is extremely slippery. I’ll settle for a photo etched in my memory—one that will surely grow even more beautiful as I get older...



Since the walk is beautiful overall, I’m not disappointed. I make up for it with landscape photos. The guide vaguely points out the village—whose name I’ve forgotten. We were supposed to visit it, according to my plan. But that would’ve required following the directions my friend gave me, and I realize that despite his honeyed smile and constant “my friend”s, the driver isn’t sticking to my itinerary. He’s doing whatever he wants, and it’s ruining my enjoyment a bit. Still, I bite my tongue to avoid making a scene or being unpleasant.

I’d been told the circuit would take about 1.5 hours. In reality, it took us nearly two. Especially since, toward the end, we stop at a little stall nestled in the vegetation by the path, where village women sell handwoven items. They’re very friendly and cheerful, not pushy at all—they just show me their work. I’d love to buy something, but I left my wallet in my bag in the car. As if reading my mind—or my body—they offer to let me use the bathroom. Like you’d ask a child: “Don’t you need to pee?” I appreciate the offer, especially since my bladder is about to burst. Our circuit didn’t include a “bathroom spot,” and I really needed to go but didn’t dare ask the woman, so I held it in until we got back. The driver had made it clear that you can’t just relieve yourself in nature in Thailand, even in the middle of the forest. I can’t imagine Thais never pee outside of official restrooms. 😉😉😉

We set off again for about another kilometer and arrive at the meeting point. They offer me an excellent coffee—such a change from this morning’s awful Nescafé. I meet up with the driver again and ask if I can get my bag from the car. I’d like to tip this kind guide. But by the time the driver brings my bag, the young woman has slipped away without me noticing, and I didn’t get to give her a little tip...

The driver—whose name I never learned, he’d introduced himself as Mr. Bird!—takes me to another big waterfall you can drive right up to. There’s a large parking lot and restaurants scattered all around. And a lot of people too. We have a decent lunch there. I order a delicious plate of stir-fried noodles with shrimp and coconut water. I get that same bad coconut water taste I’ve sometimes hated in Bangkok. I don’t know why, but sometimes coconuts just taste off. At least to me. The nut seems fresh, the water is clear, but the taste is weird. I’ve never had this unpleasant experience before in India or any other tropical place... I don’t think it’s an old coconut, even though I once saw a sign at a stall that said: NEW! Is it a Thai coconut variety? After our meal, I approach the waterfall—also beautiful, though more “tamed”—but there are just too many people. I don’t linger.

It’s now 3:15 p.m., and as we get back to the car, the driver suddenly announces: - We’re going back, but on the way, I’ll take you to one last waterfall. At first, I say nothing, then I hear my little voice: - What? Seriously? You’re not going to just swallow that, are you? You’re not going to let this sit just to avoid making a scene? - What do you mean, the last one? I say. There are five planned. This one—where we’re leaving from—is only the second... - We have to hurry because it’s going to close. There... We’ll go to the third... He more or less dodges what I just said and continues: - After that, we’ll go see the temple you mentioned.

And we drive, drive, drive, drive... Once again, he doesn’t seem to know this waterfall or where it is but doesn’t dare say so to avoid “losing face.” 😉 We finally find it. It’s a bit uphill, and we have to climb a little... We see a kind of control hut, but we don’t have to pay. He talks to the woman in the booth for a moment and tells me: - We have to hurry because it’s already 3:40 p.m., and she says it’s going to close. But what’s he talking about? We’re in nature, on a path—there’s no barrier, no rope blocking the way... How can “it” close?...

The waterfall isn’t far, and it’s not impressive but very pretty. This time, the lighting is perfect, and I can take some nice shots.





On the way back from this third waterfall, he starts again: - Now, we’re going back... I feel my temper rising, and he must see it because he argues: - The old lady said it was closed, that it closes at 4 p.m., and it’s 3:50. It’ll close in ten minutes, so we don’t have time to go to the last one you mentioned. And he shows me a piece of paper with his “schedule” for the day. I’m even more annoyed because he skipped one—when I check my own notes, there are indeed five waterfalls on the day’s circuit, but we wasted precious time at that stupid “Public Garden” at the top of Doi Inthanon, which I had no interest in. And I’ve been biting my tongue all morning, thinking we wouldn’t have time to see them all... A little angry, I retort: - Show me the paper I gave you from the first day of our agreement.

He thinks I want to check the number of waterfalls we’d planned together... He stammers: - Yeah, okay, we’ll go to the fourth, but when we get there, it’ll be closed... - Well, we’ll see. How can it be closed? It’s nature, not a temple, not a museum, not a building... It’s not paid entry, no tickets to hand out, so there’s no barrier... Nature doesn’t close... But he insists: - It’ll close in 20 minutes—should we take the chance? - Yeah, of course we’ll take the chance! We’ll see if it’s closed, if there’s a barrier... But I want to check for myself. I’m pretty sure it won’t be closed. You can’t block access to a waterfall in nature.

So he starts searching on his GPS... And once again, we drive, drive, drive, drive, drive... Sure enough, my friend had mentioned it was a bit further than the others. I’d told the driver too, but he’d pretended not to see.

While driving, he tells me about Makha Bucha Day, which marks the anniversary of the Great Assembly around the Buddha in the Veluvana garden. He’s in a hurry to get back because tonight they’re celebrating. A big meal, I think—whether it’s a family dinner or a community gathering, I’m not sure... He just says they’ll eat well, drink well, and have a good laugh, adding that they’ll be drinking a lot too...

He keeps checking his GPS, which tells him to turn left or right... We cover I don’t know how many kilometers, and at one point, the GPS says we’ve arrived. There’s nothing. We’re in the middle of nowhere, in front of a tiny path. No parking lot—pretty surprising. No vehicles! Even though the whole way, we’d seen big signs with the name of the waterfall in question. - Why do you keep relying on your GPS when you just have to follow the signs? They’re clear enough. He finally admits: - I’m like you—I’ve never been here, so I’m looking, I need the GPS because there’s no one to ask... - Maybe we haven’t gone far enough since the signs say we’re going the right way... So he drives a little further. Still nothing, even though the GPS keeps telling him to get back on the route where it said we’d arrived. So we turn back. Then, luckily, a guy passes by on a moped. He flags him down, and the guy says we haven’t gone far enough—that the waterfall is 2 km further than where the GPS claims we’ve arrived. I laugh to myself because he wouldn’t listen when I told him the same thing.

We finally arrive at the waterfall, and it’s almost 5 p.m.! I’m amazed! Of course, it’s not the best season, but there’s still enough water flowing to realize it’s the most beautiful one of the day. It’s magnificent! In the right season, it must be stunning!



The place is lively, but it’s not crowded—just locals. No tourists. The atmosphere is absolutely friendly and warm. Families, a group of young boys and girls—we chat with them, mostly him, since they don’t speak English.



Our stress is gone, my frustration has vanished, and so have his regrets. He even calls his wife to show her the waterfall live. He’s downright euphoric, thanking me over and over: - It’s wonderful! I’ve never been here in my life! You’re the one who showed me this place. Thank goodness you insisted we come and kept going even when we couldn’t find it. It’s the most beautiful one of the day! And I almost missed it if I’d listened to you...



He’s not sulking anymore. He chats with the young people. He’s not in a hurry to get back... If anything, it’s me who has to tell him it’ll be getting dark soon and we need to leave if he wants to make it to his big feast on time... It’s after 6 p.m. We get to my hotel at 7:30...

I’ll realize much later, when I tell my friend, that he never would’ve imagined the driver would take me to the top of Doi Inthanon—a place he himself finds uninteresting.

Once again, the driver did whatever he wanted, based on his own tastes and interests.

I spent the whole day digging through my notes, my memory, and photos to piece together the places and times. And now I’m exhausted—I just want to go to bed... I’ll add a few more photos tomorrow...

I had set up my camera to take photos all along the way. By choosing a shutter priority set to 1/2000th or even 1/2500th, I can snap away, window rolled down... Another thing that drivers don’t like—they prefer to turn on the AC, roll up all the windows, and speed along as much as the road allows... I don’t know how my Thai driver will react.

Once, while I was sitting next to the driver of a songthaew connecting Mae Salong to Mae Chan, I rolled down the window to take advantage and snap some photos of the beautiful landscape we were passing through. Without us even discussing it, the driver started slowing down to a crawl every time I lifted the camera to my eye (which could take a while). The guy just wanted to be nice right off the bat without me asking for anything—I wouldn’t have had the nerve to ask anyway since we were on a regular songthaew with other passengers in the back. When we arrived, I added a small bill to the fare.

For your next trip, why not consider renting a songthaew for the day instead of a car with a driver for your "custom" travels? That way, since there’s no AC, you could roll down the window as much as you want, or by sitting in the back, you’d have a clear 270° view through the slatted sides to stick your lens through (I’ve done this multiple times, even on regular songthaew routes). Another perk: a songthaew drives slower.

By the way, weren’t you the one who recently mentioned the problem of inconsiderate selfie lovers (I couldn’t find your exact words)? Their behavior is really annoying, but we don’t always have to get upset. In some cases, you can actually use them to your advantage. By composing your shot well and using an aperture like f8 or f11 to get enough depth of field so everything is sharp, you can frame the shot to have the inconsiderate folks in a small corner of the foreground while the real subject is in the background. This adds depth to the photo, and the eye will move through it more naturally.

We confirm the current bugs. We’re doing our best with the developers available, unfortunately in the middle of the summer season.

Hi, could I ask if you’ve found a developer to fix the bug?

I had set up my camera to take photos along the way. By choosing a fast shutter priority set to 1/2000th or even 1/2500th, I can snap away, window rolled down... Another thing that drivers don’t like—preferring to turn on the AC and drive with all windows closed at high speed as much as the road allows... I don’t know how my Thai driver will react.

Once, while I was sitting next to the driver of a songthaew going from Mae Salong to Mae Chan, I rolled down the window to take advantage of the opportunity to snap photos of the beautiful landscape we were passing through. Without us even discussing it, the driver slowed down to a crawl every time I raised the camera to my eye (which could take a while). The guy just wanted to be nice right off the bat without me asking for anything—I wouldn’t have had the nerve to do so anyway since we were in a regular songthaew with other passengers in the back. When we arrived, I added a small bill to the fare.

For your next trip, why not consider renting a songthaew for the day instead of a car with a driver for your "custom" travels? That way, since there’s no AC, you could roll down the window as much as you want, or by sitting in the back, you’d have a clear 270° view through the slats to stick your lens through (I’ve done this multiple times, even in regular songthaews). Another advantage: a songthaew drives slower.

By the way, weren’t you the one who recently mentioned the problem of inconsiderate selfie-takers (I couldn’t find your exact words)? Their behavior is really annoying, but we don’t always have to get upset—sometimes we can use them to our advantage. By composing your shot well and using an aperture like f8 or f11 to get enough depth of field so everything is sharp, you can frame the shot to have the selfie-takers in a small corner of the photo as a foreground element, with the real subject behind them. This will add depth to the photo, and the eye will move through it more naturally.

Thanks so much for your kind message and suggestions. I actually wanted to leave you a note on the thread I started about my upcoming trip to Thailand... It’s about time I start preparing...[;]

I added a few more photos to the article about the waterfalls...

These photos make it much clearer for me; at least the driver knew to take you to the most famous spots. That one, though—definitely not first-rate...

Photos speak louder for me; at least the driver knew to take you to the most famous ones. That one, for sure, wasn’t first-rate...

I think you, of all people, didn’t need photos since you’ve seen almost all the waterfalls in Thailand...[;]

Can't send you a PM... bug bug bug. I found the names of the interesting villages along Route 211. They’d be: coming from Loei, Chiang Khan, Pak Chom, Ban Pak Mak, Sang Khom, Si Chiang Mai, Tha Bo, Ban Nong Song Hong, and Nong Khai? Could you confirm for me? I’ll check accommodation options on Booking.com. Thanks

Apart from Ban Pak Mak, whose name, location, and even the fact that I visited it escape me, the rest is correct and in the right order.

Apart from Ban Pak Mak, whose name, location I don’t know and I don’t remember visiting, the rest is correct and in the right order.

Well, so far it’s not looking good... No places within my budget... Just nice accommodations with pools and all, way too expensive for me... Should’ve seen it coming... No tourists, so no lodging...

Do you know the villages and countryside around Chiang Rai?

Since budget guesthouses (14-18 €) rarely work with booking sites, searching for accommodation through them is the last thing to do when you're on a tight budget. All the stops I mention offer guesthouses for less than 800 baht.

Whether it's on these two routes or anywhere else—including other Southeast Asian countries and India—I never book my accommodation in advance. It's a habit I kept from the days before all those crappy booking sites everyone rushes to like sheep existed, when you'd pick a place listed in the Lonely Planet as a base and then look around once you got there. When I arrive in a town that's not in the guidebooks, I ask locals, and it's rare not to find a solution—a guesthouse, a Chinese hotel, or even an opportunistic offer from a local... Freedom to decide everything as you go is the best—down with organized trips, whether you plan them yourself or through an agency like Nouvelles Frontières with 50 people on a bus.

Do you know the villages and countryside around Chiang Rai?

Mae Salong, where I've been several times, is an excellent place to set down your bags if, like you (and me), you enjoy walking to nearby villages or hamlets. In Chiang Rai itself, I've explored (by bike) some nice spots southwest of the old airport (which is just south of the city exit). I don’t have other examples from this province where I’ve spent enough time.

It’s best to warn people that in really off-the-beaten-path spots, you shouldn’t be too picky about bedding—especially the mattress. Okay, I’m really not much of an adventurer...

Since cheap and nice little guesthouses (14-18 €) rarely work with booking sites, looking for accommodations through them is the last thing to do when on a tight budget. All the stops I mention offer guesthouses for less than 800 baht.

Whether on these two routes or anywhere else, including in other Southeast Asian countries + India, I never book my accommodations in advance. It’s a habit I kept from the time when all those crappy booking sites—where everyone rushes like sheep—didn’t exist. Back then, you’d pick a place listed in the Lonely Planet as a base and look for options on the spot. When I arrive in a town unknown to guidebooks, I ask locals, and it’s rare not to find a solution—a guesthouse, a Chinese hotel, or even an opportunistic local offering a room... Freedom to decide everything as you go is priceless. Down with organized trips, whether self-planned or through agencies like Nouvelles Frontières with 50 people on a bus.

For a year now, I’ve wanted to ask you: How old are you?

I’ve passed the age of stressful arrivals where you desperately search for A guesthouse (it’s feminine in French, *une maison*) and have to visit 3 or 4 in a row without knowing what they’ll offer... My dear friend, I always book a room for at least the first night, if not the second, to give myself time to find what suits me. And, sorry, I no longer travel without knowing where I’ll stay (especially for long trips). You’re very kind and help me a lot, and I sincerely and warmly thank you for that, but your reference point is always YOU. Have you never considered that others might not travel (or live) the same way as YOU?

Since cheap and nice little guesthouses (14-18 €) rarely work with booking sites

Well, I’m sorry to disagree again, but that was true ten years ago... At worst, until COVID... But now, guesthouse owners have realized it’s much more practical and profitable for them to "fill" their rooms through these platforms. Many have signed up. That was the case for my simple but comfortable guesthouse 15 km from Chiang Rai, in the countryside, at 450 THB...

Okay, I’m really a lousy adventurer...

Don’t worry, there are at least TWO of us...😉

It’s best to warn people that in really off-the-beaten-path spots, you shouldn’t be too fussy about bedding—especially the mattress. Okay, I’m really not much of an adventurer...

For me, it’s not so much the mattress but the bathroom, the toilet, and other "delights" of basic comfort—plus the cockroaches...

With these bugs, we can no longer edit/add to a message... Gotta write a new one... I want to add that for some travelers, the more travel hassles you experience—whatever they are and no matter how stressful—it’s a plus for the success of the trip. I’m not one of those people...

It’s best to warn people that in really off-the-beaten-path spots, you shouldn’t be too fussy about bedding—especially the mattress. Okay, I’m really not much of an adventurer...

For me, it’s not so much the mattress, but the bathroom, the toilet, and other "delights" of basic comfort—plus the cockroaches...

Tha Song Yang, Wongtawan Resort hotel, 800 baht with "help yourself" breakfast included.

Room with real beds and real mattresses but no cockroaches:





Anyway, the perfect place for backpackers who are a little high-maintenance... 😎

Wow, that looks amazing—where is it?

the perfect spot for fussy backpackers

You don’t have to be snarky. I know a certain old fussy guy who could teach you a thing or two—and we’ll see how *you* are when you’re old too.

Thanks so much for the photos...

I don’t get why you sent these photos... This isn’t at all the area I want to go to—it’s a completely tourist-free zone.

Wow, amazing, but where is it?

the ideal place for picky backpackers

You don’t have to be condescending. I know a certain old picky guy who could teach you a thing or two—and we’ll see how *you* are when you’re old too.

I’m already old, and if I can post photos of the place, it’s because I’ve stayed there several times. So if you want, you’re welcome to count me among the picky ones.

Here, as compensation for your annoyance, I’ll give you a photo of the owner of the place:

Today, February 14th I was really surprised the first time I found myself in India on Valentine’s Day when my driver-guide warmly wished me a happy Valentine’s Day… He added: - Today is the festival of Love and Lovers… With a smile and a very suggestive look… Later, I realized that in India, everyone wishes everyone a happy Valentine’s Day, just like we wish everyone a "Happy New Year" on January 1st… Any Indian celebrates any festival, regardless of their religion, social class, or caste. I love that. I’ve adopted this practice myself.

I had planned a route today that I’d found in the *Guide Vert Michelin*. It started in Chiang Mai, heading north toward Mae Rim and ending in the south at Hang Dong, circling Doi Pui. When I mentioned this route to the driver at our first meeting, he exclaimed: - That’s not possible! The two villages are completely opposite each other. You have to choose to go to one or the other, but it’s not possible to do both in the same day. That completely threw me off. I showed him the map, explaining it was a loop from north to south, clockwise. He eventually agreed—not to miss a day’s car rental—but I could tell he wasn’t convinced at all. It seemed inconceivable to him that I’d go north while also including a village in the south. He hadn’t grasped the idea of a loop at all.

We were supposed to meet at 8 AM.

At 7:45 AM, I get a message: *I can’t come, I have to take my daughter to school. I’m sending my younger brother instead.* Typical Indian. Typical Thai? Instead of admitting he didn’t want to do the route or hadn’t understood my request, he preferred to invent a big lie… I immediately thought he might know his brother was more resourceful and preferred to delegate the task to him that day… But when the brother arrived, I was stunned. He was a big oaf, both literally and figuratively. Very young, maybe barely 18, and I wondered if he wasn’t a bit simple-minded. I quickly realized his brother had told him my hotel but hadn’t mentioned the "program" for the day at all. I had translated the entire route description into Thai and sent it to him in detail so he wouldn’t worry. He just had to follow my instructions. Maybe he was thrown off when he saw: turn right, turn left, at this spot there’s a curve like this, further on another like that, follow this road and not that one, etc… I had included a map of the route. It was very clear and well-explained. He just had to follow my instructions like he would a GPS…

The younger brother chuckled foolishly at every word I said as I explained our day’s plan, nodding along with "OK" and head bobs. But as soon as he got in the car, he asked: *Where do you want to go? Where do you want me to take you?* I was completely thrown—momentarily panicked. I had just explained everything, and clearly, he hadn’t understood a thing. Every word he said in Thai was accompanied by a stupid laugh, and he seemed completely clueless. What kind of luck did I have? When I asked if he understood, he finally admitted: *I don’t speak English.* I was about to say, *Fine, let’s cancel the outing…* I was annoyed—I’d gotten up at 6 AM just for him, even though I was tired and had gone to bed late the night before. But I was completely disheartened. We weren’t going to make it… I didn’t want to pay 3000 baht for a botched, completely failed plan. Then I had a sudden thought—I’d follow my own notes and explain as we went along. So I said: - First, we’re going to Mae Rim. Later, we’ll visit the orchid and butterfly farm. From what I’ve read, I think it’ll be really interesting to learn how orchids, which are disappearing in the wild, are cultivated.

I made the mistake, to perk myself up after my short night, of drinking a lot of tea and coffee. Especially a lot of coffee. The urge to pee became catastrophic. We had to stop every ten minutes… This was definitely going to be a completely botched day. Luckily, he quickly realized I had a peeing problem, and every 10 or 15 minutes, he’d say *toilets, toilets…* because he knew where there’d be restrooms along the way. Apparently, they have an issue with peeing in nature. You can’t just pee outside like you can in many countries. There are toilets everywhere—not public restrooms, but in all temples and many public places.

We arrived in Mae Rim fairly quickly. So by noon, we’d completed the entire route. A bit expensive for just half a day of car rental. This guy, in the end, was far from simple-minded because he quickly figured out what I liked and what I didn’t. For example, the air conditioning in the car, which he set to 25/26°C, even 27°C. He turned out to be very attentive and considerate. I much preferred him to his older brother. But it was a handicap that he didn’t speak English—we couldn’t communicate at all. And I couldn’t explain the purpose of the outing because he still didn’t understand what I wanted to do. He kept asking, *But where do you want to go? What place do you want to go to?* How could I explain that I wasn’t going to a specific place, that we were just doing a loop to explore the Chiang Mai area with a few stops to look at landscapes or visit a temple along the way, or anything else interesting? But we didn’t share the same idea of what was interesting. That’s how he took the initiative to drive me to the Queen Sirikit Botanical Garden, which my VF friend had highly recommended. I had planned to visit it another day on my own to take my time. But since we were passing by… and the day was turning out shorter than I’d imagined, why not stop? As soon as we crossed the gate, we saw an incredible number of buses from which hordes of schoolchildren poured out… Okay, I get it—it’s going to be unmanageable. I’d rather not waste the fairly high entrance fee if I’m not going to enjoy it…

He also didn’t understand my interest in wandering through villages and experiencing local life… On the other hand, he got my interest in photos. He drove at 50 km/h, sometimes even slower, even in towns, even when he reached the four-lane highway—he still drove at 50. So I figured he must have rented this car himself or borrowed it for the occasion… and was afraid of damaging it. Maybe he hadn’t had his license for long? But I noticed, on the contrary, that he drove very well, very carefully all day. I saw that he was well "trained," very disciplined in following all traffic rules, and there was no question of bending or breaking them. He was also very respectful of other drivers…

I wouldn’t recommend the famous "Orchid and Butterfly Farm" to anyone. A total tourist trap! Yes, there are lots of orchids with huge, fantastically colored flowers, but they’re hung on wires, one after another, high up, making them hard to photograph because the background is a pale, reflective plastic sheeting, so you’re constantly dealing with awful backlighting and strong glare. Plus, as beautiful as they are, the flowers are presented haphazardly, with no aesthetic effort. After the fabulous flower beds and displays at the Flower Festival, this visit was completely uninteresting.

As for the "butterfly farm," it’s an enclosed space with plants, including orchids, covered by a sort of net roof. In total, I saw two or three very dull butterflies fluttering around. In 20 minutes, I’d seen everything. But I did notice huge restaurant halls—there were three or four different kinds, from the simplest to the most luxurious. Enough to satisfy all tastes and budgets. Maybe they rent them out for banquets or parties? Or is it a popular spot for locals on weekends? I observed that Thais, like Indians, are very social and love gathering in the same place. On the way out, I also walked through a large space selling lacquer jewelry. I don’t know what lacquer has to do with orchids and butterflies… Like the orchids, the lacquerware was displayed side by side with no aesthetic concern. It didn’t even make me want to look, let alone buy… 60 baht for entry—cheap, but still not worth it. I really thought we’d learn a lot about orchids, their varieties, habitats, why this species grows here and another there… How to cultivate them, fertilizers, care… None of that!

Back in the car, he asked again: - Now where do we go? What place are we going to? - We’re not going anywhere specific—just keep going on Route 1096, and we’ll see along the way what’s worth stopping for. My answer left him stunned.

We spotted a roadside eatery. He suggested we stop. Actually, despite its exterior, it wasn’t a dive at all—it even seemed quite chic once inside. There were two or three different terraces, one of which jutted out like a belvedere, and I even saw a platform over the void, like a walkway. The view was beautiful, though not breathtaking, but still very nice. When you’ve had the chance to wander through Himachal Pradesh, Ladakh, Zanskar, Lahaul, and Spiti, you know what *breathtaking* means, and you become picky about landscapes that take your breath away. That was the general impression I got by the end of my trip to Thailand…

The menu at this "not-a-dive" delighted me and made my mouth water. The prices were really reasonable for such a place and the dishes served. What I was served was delicious and beautifully presented. Instead of sitting at a table, I chose to sit on a high stool at a sort of bar that seemed to overlook the ravine, facing a stunning landscape.



After the meal, we continued our route. The young driver had finally understood that what interested me were landscapes. So he drove very slowly, and we started climbing into the mountains, following a winding road between traditional houses in several villages—which I would have loved to visit—through the Samoeng forest. I was surprised to discover a pine forest with very tall trunks, as if we were in a coastal region. Maybe they weren’t pines—I’m no botany expert—but they were definitely conifers from the same family.



After reaching the summit, the road descended, and as often happens in the mountains, the vegetation on this side was completely different. Now, it was endless bamboo forests.



Majestic bamboos bending under the weight of their beautiful plumes. They were a fresh, airy green. The effect was magical. Occasionally, a gap in the trees revealed magnificent landscapes.



Wanting to please me, the young man stopped fairly often so I could take photos. But he tended to stop to show me things *he* found photogenic, not me. On the other hand, he didn’t stop when *I* would have liked. Since I didn’t want to take advantage of his efforts to be nice, I said nothing, but it resulted in some annoyance and frustration. That’s how we passed a clearing in a grove dotted with many small shrines like the ones you see in town in front of houses. I think I’ve described them before. They’re built, each on a sort of "platform" fixed to a pole stuck in the ground.



Some seemed to represent a house with elements of family life, while others evoked a temple or religious building. Until now, I’d only seen them in town, on sidewalks or in gardens in front of buildings or houses. I never dared ask what their purpose or meaning was.



Here, I saw them arranged side by side in an arc, very colorful, in the middle of a grove. But by the time I realized, he had already passed them. I couldn’t help exclaiming: - Damn it! Even if he didn’t understand the word, he got my disappointment and crestfallen look. - You wanted to stop? Oh… oh… That interests you? He turned around, and we went back. For me, this kind of discovery is even more interesting than a visit to an ethnographic museum… And photographically, it was exceptionally interesting, especially in that setting. I thoroughly enjoyed taking a series of unique shots. This moment was even the highlight of my outing—and justified the cost of the private car ride, since I never would have found it using public transport…



The place, in the middle of nature, and the sacred aspect of these little houses reminded me a bit of the Ayyanar gods and horses in Tamil Nadu.



He’d done it several times that morning—driving past village temples without stopping, even though I actually prefer these modest, unpretentious village temples. So this time, I asked him to stop at the next one we saw by the roadside. Not only was this little temple charming, but it was the first where I was so warmly welcomed by a monk who greeted me with a smile, invited me to take photos, then slipped into a corner and returned to offer me a small box, like a case, containing a protective amulet—a golden medal with the effigy of a revered local monk from this temple. I took the opportunity to linger in the surrounding alleys among the pretty, typical old houses.



Then the road descended toward the village of Hang Dong, known—according to the *Guide Vert*—for its beautiful traditional crafts: basketry, ceramics, metalwork, and carved wooden objects. "You’ll find shops with great prices and, above all, wholesalers where everything sold in Chiang Mai—and elsewhere in the country—comes from. So the prices are accordingly!" it said elsewhere…

Having visited this type of village in India and elsewhere—including in France—I expected to see, in addition to the shops, artisans at work. But while the various guides and agencies mention Hang Dong for its crafts, they don’t say a word about Wat Ban Thon, which I stumbled upon quite by chance. A little hidden gem that I can’t resist sharing a photo or two of…



Even if some parts are extravagantly kitsch with garish, eye-popping colors—which I love!—and I explored every nook and cranny…

But I could see the driver was getting back on a main road and clearly preparing to head back… - Where are you going now? - Well, we’re going back… - But I want to visit the craft workshops… - There’s no craft here… Exactly the kind of situation I hate with a driver—and I knew it would lead to a difficult discussion and… negotiation. Especially with a driver who doesn’t speak English… - What do you mean, no craft here?... A dialogue of the deaf ensued, each of us sticking to our guns. As usual, rather than getting angry and ruining my mood, I was about to give in while making it clear I wasn’t happy. But damn it! For days, I’d been looking forward to finding *the* wooden Buddha statue here—not another mass-produced copy made in China—but a statue carved by a local artisan, a souvenir for my Buddhist altar… I wasn’t going to let myself be influenced/manipulated by a driver who only wanted to do things his way… - Listen, we need to ask someone, but I assure you this is an artisan village. I want to buy something—I came here specifically! He searched on his phone and finally said: - Ah, yes, I see what you want to see. Yes, there’s a place where they’re all grouped together. It’s outside the city, 5 km away—I’ll take you there. But you won’t see them working—these are big craft production centers. Besides, it’ll be closed by now (it was 2:30 PM). We left the city, and I had the impression we were driving for kilometers…

Sure enough, when we arrived, there were only huge warehouses with display windows—or not—and most were closed. It was only 3:30 PM, and I didn’t understand. And he didn’t understand why I didn’t understand. Apparently, it was normal for them to be closed. Plus, they only had very large pieces, even monumental ones… Magnificent, sure, but unaffordable in price and size.

I realized we still hadn’t understood each other. - What I wanted to see were small items that could be bought—maybe a Buddha! - Ah! Now I get it! We need to go somewhere else! I grumbled to myself: *It’s about time you understood…*

And he finally took me exactly where I’d imagined. A long street with a canal in the middle. It felt like a floating market. On either side, a row of local craft shops, one after another. Often, the artists (rather than artisans) were present, even if they weren’t working. There was something for every taste—from the most beautiful and refined to the tackiest and most kitsch.

I first found two small Buddhas carved from very light, natural wood, with no frills, very simple but not without finesse and elegance—even in the facial features and the folds of the robe. One was 1100 baht, the other 1500. I didn’t think they were expensive because it was really beautiful work. But for fun, to keep up the tradition, I started negotiating—just for principle, since their price was more than fair. I offered 2000 baht for both. First, the woman tried for 2300… I gave her my best smile and… - Then I can only take one. How much for the 1500 one? She hesitated, then… - Fine, both for 2000…

A little further on, a sculptor’s shop—he was working right then. Immediately, a magnificent standing Buddha carved from a tree branch—or root?—caught my eye. Very simple, very stylized. You could barely make out the facial features, the body, or the robe, but the result was stunning. A real work of art. It was priced at 750 baht. I regretted not waiting—I was disappointed… The artist sensed my disappointment and thought I found it too expensive… - I can do it for 600 baht… And quickly added: - But I won’t go below 600… I don’t know what kind of wood it was—very dense, solid, heavy… Would it fit in my suitcase? We measured it… 70 cm… - Okay, I’ll take it—I think it’ll fit if I put it diagonally… Between the two halves… I was especially happy to buy directly from the artist who carved it rather than from a shopkeeper.

In the end, between the temple, the back-and-forth to find these shops, and the negotiations, it was already almost 5 PM. The normal time we were supposed to return… This guy had been really nice, helpful, very patient, very considerate. I emptied my pockets and found 100 baht to give him. I don’t know if it was a good tip, but I’d spent everything I’d brought that day… He clearly wasn’t expecting it… A big smile. He was really happy. Me too…

The big Buddha was too big… It didn’t fit in the suitcase no matter what. I had to remove the base. But what a mess! The base wasn’t screwed on but nailed with huge spikes. I had to pry it off. One spike stayed in the base. The other in the statue. To this day, the Buddha is still sitting in a corner waiting for me to deal with it. But a week ago, I stained, waxed, and patinated the other two… They’re gorgeous! You’d think they came from an antique shop or a museum. An antique dealer friend visited me just the other day… - Wow, your two Buddhas are amazing! You must’ve paid a fortune! I smiled without answering… No need to shatter his illusions…

Some photos are so dark I almost made an appointment with the eye doctor. Plus, it doesn’t do justice to this country, which is so colorful and bright. A little habit picked up one day that’s hard to shake?

Other than that, it gives me a sense of déjà vu when you share your misadventures with drivers. Glad you stood your ground, though. In parts of Asia, the mindset is pretty ingrained. Same thing in restaurants when you clearly ask for no spice—half the time, that request gets lost between ordering and the dishes arriving. They really don’t understand why we’d want to eat something so bland (which just means it doesn’t burn your mouth).

Like everywhere, you come across a minority of responsive and intelligent people who can adapt to unusual requests. But for every one like that, there are five who weren’t born in the Age of Enlightenment 😉 That said, we’re the demanding ones, and English is more familiar to us than to them...

Some photos are so dark I almost made an appointment with the eye doctor. Plus, it doesn’t do justice to this such a colorful and bright country. A little habit picked up one day that’s hard to shake?

Dear friend, know that it’s either an issue with the VF site, your phone, or your computer, because on my screens they look perfectly fine—as well as on YouPic, judging by all the comments from high-level photographers who are much better and more professional than me and next to whom I feel very small. I find that many people have the "habit" of overexposing their shots with way too much light... to each their own taste... But we’re on a travelers’ forum, not a photographers’ one. If you don’t like my photos, that’s your right and your taste—you’re not obliged to follow this travel journal with such bad photos...