We landed in Chiang Mai around 10:30 pm, flying in from Krabi. The difference was immediate. It was colder, quieter, and felt like the city had already gone to sleep while still holding its elegance under a blanket of stars. We had booked a hotel near the airport for convenience, and as we rode there in a Grab car, the calmness of the city wrapped itself around us like a gentle hush. No honking. No rush. Just calm.
That night, we didn’t have the energy for anything extravagant—just comfort food. KFC, ordered through Grab. The kind of meal that doesn’t compete with the place but quietly fits in, letting the city have the spotlight.
January 29, 2025
The morning brought a different kind of excitement. We hired a scooter and started roaming around the city, letting instinct be our map. The mountains of northern Thailand rose in the distance, calling us like a quiet invitation. We answered.
Riding up to Ban Doi Pui was nothing short of life-defining. Shamim rode with confidence, navigating the winding paths with ease. I sat behind, quietly absorbing it all—the cool breeze, the shifting shadows of the trees, the sound of the engine blending with birdsong and mountain silence.
That ride reminded me of my 2019 scooter journey in Pokhara, Nepal. The mountains have a way of bringing out old memories and teaching new lessons, all in the same breath. And unlike the chaotic trips filled with checklists and rush, this was different. We were not chasing landmarks—we were letting the journey shape itself.
We rode for almost two hours, stopping here and there—tea stalls for warm drinks, a local village for a peek into everyday mountain life, the Chiang Mai Agricultural University campus for a breath of youth and knowledge. And then came a surprise—the cherry blossoms. Amid the sea of green, they stood like poetry. Gentle. Beautiful. Undemanding.
By 3 pm, we were back in Chiang Mai town and hungry. Lunch in the Old Town was unforgettable—mouth-watering, flavorful, and humble. That combination is rare. We wandered through ancient lanes afterward, exploring temples, traditional homes, and architecture that seemed to tell their own slow stories. We had the best mango sticky rice in a modest little shop tucked into a quiet corner. That kind of dessert doesn’t just satisfy your taste buds—it opens your heart.
We saw twilight on our way back to the hotel. It had been a full day. Three temples. Countless turns. Countless thoughts. When the weather dropped to 14 degrees in the mountains, it felt like time itself had cooled down. I had never experienced such a soul-touching scooter ride before.
Later that night, we went out again to feel the nightlife of Chiang Mai. It was more vibrant than Krabi—more colorful, yet still not noisy. It had its own beat. The kind that doesn’t want to be loud to be felt.
By the time we got back to the hotel, it was 1 am. The city was sleeping again.
January 30, 2025
We woke up at 9 am with simple pleasures—complimentary coffee and biscuits from the hotel. And then, we set off again. This time, to Doi Inthanon National Park, the highest peak in Thailand. Another two-hour scooter ride, another chapter.
As we rode, the scenery began to shift—more trees, more silence, more space to breathe. Nature has a way of making you feel insignificant and infinite at the same time. Doi Inthanon did that to me.
Inside the park, we felt like guests in nature’s temple. We explored, rested, laughed, and took photos—but it never felt like we were consuming the place. It felt like the place was gently revealing itself to us. We had a delicious yet surprisingly cheap lunch within the park. Simple food in beautiful places always tastes better.
One of the most breathtaking moments was visiting the Doi Inthanon Air Base area—open, vast, and painterly. If stillness had a color palette, it would look like that landscape.
But all good things come with deadlines. We had a flight to catch at 5:40 pm to Bangkok. Or so we thought.
We left the park at 2:45 pm and reached the hotel in record time. Only to realize—our flight wasn’t at 6:40 pm like I had miscalculated. It was at 5:40 pm! We arrived at the airport at 5:30 pm. Too late.
So we laughed at our fate, booked a new flight for 10 pm, and got some unexpected extra time at the airport. That’s the thing about travel—it humbles you, teaches you to adapt, and sometimes, just gives you stories like this one.
We landed in Bangkok close to midnight.
Chiang Mai changed something in me.
It wasn’t about the sights or the checklist. It was the feeling. The slowness. The grace. The way the mountains watched over us like silent elders. The way food was shared, and roads were respected. The way we could just be—and feel complete.
It reminded me that silence isn’t the absence of something. It’s often the presence of everything.
