Feeling Amazing in Chiang Mai, Thailand

Travel date: 13 December 2018 - 9 January 2019

Chiang Mai is the largest city in mountainous northern Thailand. It is located 700km north of Bangkok and is surrounded by the highest mountains in the country. Founded in 1296, it replaced Chiang Rai as the capital of the Kingdom of Lanna. (Note: Chiang Mai means "New City".)

The city is surrounded by a moat and thick walls, which served as defenses against the threatful Taungoo Dynasty and the invading Mongol Empire. It is home to over 300 elaborate Buddhist temples, including Wat Phra That Doi Suthep atop Doi Suthep mountain and Wat Phra Singh within the city walls.

Historically, Chiang Mai has significant cultural, trading and economic importance, second only to Bangkok. Presently, it is considered as among the best cities for digital nomads, with its speedy internet, low cost of living, and abundance of things to do.

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I came to Chiang Mai from Taiwan as it was the cheapest flight route I found from Taipei. I didn't research much and wasn't expecting anything. Fortunately, Chiang Mai became a very pleasant surprise. I enjoyed its small alleyways, its surrounding waterways, its cold evenings and its vegetarian-friendly eateries. It made me see the Thailand that most other travellers see -- "Amazing Thailand".

I spent most of my time cycling around and exploring small alleys inside and outside of the old city walls. Very confusing at first, I eventually learned to navigate with minimal help from Google Maps to find garden restaurants, small coffee shops, and discreet yoga studios. Every street was interesting and seemed to hide something just waiting to be uncovered.

Crossing the big road towards my guesthouse, the setting sun caught my attention and tempted me to explore further instead of going straight home.

Sometimes, my two wheels bring me to one of the many local markets around the city. I hunt for snacks wrapped in banana leaves, browse through the displays of local vegetables and fruits, and even consider purchasing new handmade clothing and native bags.

The local markets are most alive on mornings with various stalls selling fresh produce, cooked meals, packaged pastries and hot beverages.

With the many vegetarian/vegan eateries around the city, I was never bothered to cook for myself. I felt so spoiled with having a lot of affordable, accessible and delicious options -- even non-vegetarian restaurants offer vegetarian options. I didn't really have to think and plan my meals, a very welcome change to the Philippine scene where I always have to "negotiate". 

Cat House was the first vegan/vegetarian restaurant that I ate at in Chiang Mai. Although a bit pricey, they had a good selection of mains, smoothies and cakes. 

During my stay, I found the opportunity to see and listen to local jazz bands at North Gate Jazz Co-op and at Thapae East. I got the tip from a friendly random over dinner at a small restaurant that wasn't actually my target destination. I'm not really a music person and I can't name a favorite song or genre but jazz is definitely one of those I listen to -- not that I understand what jazz music really is.

At North Gate Jazz Co-op, the crowd definitely enjoyed the high-energy, head-banging but not-ear-ringing music of this band. The passionate expression of their drummer is just a bonus. 

Probably the most touristy thing that I did in Chiang Mai, I signed up with Elephant Nature Park, a group that truly cares for the elephants, to experience a day with a trio of elephants. I spent Christmas Day endlessly feeding them with bananas and walking them up a hill and then back down to the river along with their actual caretakers-slash-brothers and other visitors from the US, Taiwan and Latvia.

The mother elephant greedily takes as much bananas as is offered to her, not minding her two daughters right beside her. Although they protect each other, elephants don't share food. 

On some mornings, I cycled through the early morning chill to join the local group of yoga practitioners for a free session at the park. The group composed of international yoga teachers who are living in or just passing by Chiang Mai and who are volunteering to lead public yoga sessions at most twice daily for free. It was a different experience practicing yoga at a public open space instead of in a private studio.

Unlike in the controlled environment of a yoga studio, peace and quiet is a game of chance at the park. In one session, motorized grass-cutters provided our ambient music.

My last couple of days in Chiang Mai luckily coincided with Monk Chat's weekly overnight meditation retreat. Held on Tuesdays till Wednesdays, their Buddhist meditation retreat is perfect for newbies who might not be up to the challenge of 10-day and 21-day silent retreats. Although I can go days without talking to anyone, I still found it difficult and awkward and I couldn't meditate anymore by the morning.

Guided by Phra KK, we practised seating, walking, standing and lying down meditation. It was my second exposure to meditation during which I had moments of feeling "high".

Towards the end of my stay in Chiang Mai, I realized how happy I have been for the past couple of months. I met some really inspiring people, I ate so much good food, I slept very well, and I was living in one of the nicest and most pleasant cities. I can only be thankful. :)

Settling Down and Setting Out

In the past year or so, I have been settling down to a less nomadic lifestyle. Instead of monthly backpacking trips to new and undiscovered places, I travelled back to familiar places and stayed for months, assuming a more regular rhythm of working, relaxing and training. I completely unpacked my backpack and stashed it in one corner -- something that I normally do after coming back to Manila and not after arriving at a tropical beach island. I feel like I'm finally growing up.

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In April 2017, I put down my backpack to live with four other strangers in a 2-storey apartment in Panglao, Bohol. We all volunteered to be part of a dolphin survey project, which lasted for three months. It was my first step towards marine conservation and a baby step away from capitalism, but as getting paid remains essential, I had to combine both.

On early mornings, I worked with the team to collect data and information about the local dolphin tourism industry in Panglao Island. In the evenings, I worked by myself on my laptop to deliver business plan projects. It was difficult adjusting both to living with other people and to juggling two different jobs. Nevertheless, by the end of the three-month period, I have gained new friends who are similarly unconventional, as well as more clarity towards the person I want to be, whilst keeping my job and my salary.

We normally arrive at Doljo Beach just as the sun is rising, excitedly greeted by the dog pack of Doljo. On some mornings, the sky lit up like it was on fire amidst a cool sea breeze.

In September 2017, after a short solo backpacking trip that included me skipping two days of meals for lack of currency, I reunited with my grumpy-old-man in Koh Tao, Surat Thani, Thailand. He was taking his Instructor's Course while I was recovering from my freediving injuries. It was our first international trip together, which actually didn't go as we hoped.

While he was busy with his day-long classes and sessions, I was idle without work and money. I didn't have active projects to work on during the day and I couldn't withdraw money from my card to spend on exploring the island, so I felt stuck and dependent on him. Even though I tried working on my personal projects and resolved to borrow funds from him, the constant feelings of guilt and constraint made me anxious. It was three weeks of struggling to be okay and pretending to be better.

On the only day I dared to drive alone up and down Koh Tao's steep roads, I successfully and safely arrived at Tanote Bay. I spent the afternoon snorkelling, people-watching and sun-bathing.

In November 2017, after a hectic month back in Manila, catching up with friends, working on projects and volunteering in a non-profit convention, I decided to come with my grumpy-old-man to Boracay Island. Although I initially found myself jobless again and attempted to find local employment, I ended up juggling three different clients along with training for freediving -- a stark contrast from the previous month.

On most days, I hopped from one coffee shop to another for work, walking along White Beach and dodging tourists in between. On less demanding days, I scheduled freediving courses and training sessions, struggling against less-flat and less-warm waters. It was the real first time I assumed a digital nomad lifestyle -- working and living simultaneously in a place of my choosing -- and I made it sustainable. By the end of January 2018, I had to leave for fieldwork in Manila but I felt satisfied and fulfilled.

Regardless of how crowded and polluted it was, Boracay amazed me every day with its powder-white sand and clear blue skies. Whenever life starts to feel heavy, I would walk the stretch of White Beach, comforted by the soft sand and breeze.

In February 2018, after an out-of-town reunion with UKworkinggirl and her squad in El Nido, Palawan, I headed to Siargao, Surigao del Norte. I devised a goal of scouting for a hostel business opportunity, drawing from a feeling two years ago that it could be the island I can finally settle in. Unfortunately, with the recent tourism boom, the island underwent drastic commercialization, resulting in inflated prices.

Nevertheless, arriving at the island vaguely felt like coming home. I squealed with every shop I recognized and gaped at all the new establishments. I stayed at my old hostel and re-introduced myself to the friends I previously made, as well as made new friends at the native studio I transferred to. For more than a month, I cycled between working on my laptop, practising yoga, attempting to surf and understanding the local economy, but the island had become a tourist trap so I had to leave for good.

Arriving at Cloud9 for the first time a few years ago, I gazed in awe at the endless roaring waves and the calm shallows. These days, locals refer to the platform as Crowd9, adding that the island is on its way to becoming the next Boracay.

Since March 2018 , I have been back and living in Panglao, Bohol as a result of personal choice and opportunistic circumstances. Now approaching my 4th month, the longest that I have stayed outside of Manila and Batangas (and my ongoing PB in nomadic living), I have laid down some roots in the form of long-term lodging, go-to coffee shops, familiar faces, and international friends.

Within that period, I have been in and out of the island for travel, work and family -- to Singapore for freediving and conservation, to Dumaguete for an organizational meeting, and to Manila, Davao and Cebu for family reunions. Additionally, I have initiated a citizen science project on the conservation of marine turtles around the island and have been completing a Master's course on freediving, all whilst keeping my employers happy, running on island time, and working out relationship drama.

Unlike other beaches, Alona Beach has always given me mixed feelings. Its turquoise waters are somewhat tempting but its boat traffic is always discouraging. But then, I haven't really spent enough time uncovering its secret pockets.
(I don't have enough pictures from Panglao so I am stealing this from ProbinsyaLeavesTown)

Although I've always had a love-hate relationship with the island -- its lack of exciting activities and of social opportunities balanced by its optimal freediving conditions and accessibility to both beach and city life -- I do consider it as my new home, akin to Manila. It has introduced me to a new reality, enabled me towards unthinkable achievements and forced me to overcome myself. Unfortunately, similar to Manila, I feel like it is becoming too comfortable, too familiar and too near and that I should soon get out.

And so, I have started considering new destinations -- trips that would force me back to my detailed itineraries and to my wide-eyed gazes, trips that would challenge my street smarts and my world ideals, and trips that would anger me to my limit or comfort me towards restful sleep. Regardless, I would like to continue living a semi-nomadic lifestyle of almost settling down before setting back out.

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Back in 2015, I remember proclaiming to a fellow nomad in our Kyoto house that I am pursuing a sustainable travel lifestyle and would like to travel continuously for at least two years. Well, at least half of that statement has come true. It's probably high time that I pursue that second half.

Solo Travel: Same Same but Different

I remember the time when travelling solo was the scariest thing in the world. There was nothing in particular that I was scared about but I was scared out of my wits. I kept imagining vague scenarios that quickened my pulse and kept me awake.

At the same time, it was also the most exciting thing in the world. It presented a totally novel and insane idea that was so out of my current world. I dreamed of unknown opportunities, destinations, and experiences that outweighed the fears and kept me moving.

When I first explored the idea of solo travel, travelling outside of work obligations and family holidays was a very young concept. Most people travel not out of want but of need while the rest simply had the time and money to spare. In my case, however, I travelled purely because of want and strict budgets have to be set to make it possible.

Because of this, whenever I tell people that I am going somewhere, they find it difficult to understand that I am not doing it for work and that I am neither on a holiday. What's more, I go alone with only my laptop and phone for company. They respond with so much confusion that I tend to question myself as well.

Nevertheless, I do know that travelling solo is something that I sincerely enjoy and am passionate about. While most people turn away from the work of making plans and arrangements for their vacations, I indulge in carefully designing my routes -- uncovering different means of moving from one place to another, searching diligently for prices and fares, and picking out known and unknown locations. To me, the journey matters more than the destination and stepping onto a new place is more breathtaking than the sceneries. It's not uncommon that I suddenly pause with the realization that I am, once again, headed to somewhere unfamiliar.

Now two years since I began my pursuit, I realized that travelling solo no longer scares or excites me. Gone are the wild thoughts and baseless worries that fed my doubts. Gone also are the hopeful anticipation and hazy daydreams that filled me with wonder. Instead, I feel comfort, normality, and familiarity even when arriving for the first time in a country whose language I cannot decode.

Though the experience is markedly different now, the same things that compelled me to travel solo persist still. I may no longer walk around with wide-eyed wonder like a kid in an amusement park, or with paranoid unease for pre-empting mistakes, but each new environment still amazes me and each unknown still worries me. Most importantly, I travel still because I want to expand my comfort zone and to incorporate more places into my personal reality.

Definitely, my preferences and goals will continue to change as I gain more years and experiences. But I am sure that no matter how familiar and unexciting solo travel becomes, it will never stop being amazing and breath-taking (add: insane).

Taken by yelmalab in Batanes, Philippines. Biking is definitely the best way (and most hardworking) way to explore a new location. This trip gave birth to this blog's forerunner, The Hardworking Traveller.

Rediscovering Freediving

For three weeks now, I have been based out of Panglao Island, Bohol as I expand my comfort levels in freediving. It so far remains extremely terrifying and surreal, with each dive a battle against underwater pressure and self-doubt. However, I have happily made strong progress both in skill and in enjoyment. And although my motivation for pursuing freediving continues to be vague, the path towards it is now clearer than when I first discovered it.

Freediving is both a competitive and a recreational sport wherein participants hold their breath and dive underwater to depths of up to 200m (656ft). Of course, not all freedivers dive that deep and most enjoy freediving as simply holding their breath for a few seconds and diving down to 10m (33ft). In any case, the activity is best enjoyed at a personal level, with athletes competing against themselves than against each other.

Taken during the Asian Freediving Cup at Panglao, Bohol by Kohei Ueno. My first exposure to a freediving competition, I immerse in the water with only a mask and a snorkel amidst expert freedivers with wetsuits and long fins.

It was back in 2015 when I first discovered freediving in Moalboal, Cebu. I knew very little about it but the idea of diving with no attached equipment and at my own pace and will convinced me that it was how I want to explore the underwater world. So after a 2.5-day AIDA 2-star course, which culminated in a 17m (56ft) dive and a sea turtle sighting, I saw a whole new world open up for me.

Taken by Nicolas Foubert in Moalboal, Cebu. Ascending from a 10-meter (33-feet) dive on a single breath, I felt contented and didn't imagine daring to go deeper.

However, just like graduating from university, the next step after finishing the course was unclear. I wanted to use my new-found underwater exploration skills but I had no one to freedive with.

Nevertheless, I held on to my budding interest and started designing my travels around freediving schools. This made it easier to decide where my next destination will be and also safer to practice freediving. Still, doing coached dives with freedive instructors in and out of the Philippines, although enjoyable, didn't really match my initial idea of what freediving is for. It felt like I wasn't getting the most out of it.

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It wasn't until a fun dive session in Napaling, Panglao that I rediscovered joy in freediving. I was with a more experienced freediver, which made me feel safe as I know he can rescue me in case something happens, and challenged as I didn't want to appear sloppy and incapable. We dived through swim-through's, up and down a reef wall, over colorful corals, and through a small school of sardines. I felt graceful, relaxed, and amazed. I remembered every skill I learned and used them to move effortlessly and enjoyably underwater. It was pure joy. After that, I started dreaming of becoming better, of staying underwater longer, and of doing more fun dives like this.

Taken by Gert Leroy in Napaling, Panglao. I stay a couple of seconds underwater, letting the water push my body upwards as I examine the different sensations occurring inside.

I thought then that that was the goal: freediving for underwater exploration. But the more I thought about it, the more it felt incomplete -- like it was just one side of the coin. More so, I realized how I am not really looking at marine life underwater but looking at myself inwardly.

Unexpectedly, opportunities for training and for more freediving came up. I suddenly found myself along this path that demanded so much discomfort yet imparted so much amazement. I was doing something I have never imagined I could and it was slowly becoming part of my comfort zone.

Taken by Gert Leroy in Napaling, Panglao. I head towards the surface as my legs start to burn and my lungs crave for fresh oxygen after achieving a new 25-meter (82-feet) PB*.

So I trudged on. And from looking at freediving as a means of exploring the underwater, I look at it now as a means of discovering myself. Further, from being an impressionable audience at the most-awaited freediving competition in Asia, I am now a hopeful participant at the last depth competition this year in Panglao.

I may still be considered a beginner freediver who takes pleasure in the idea of looking more bad-ass than scuba divers, but I am also now a competitive freediver who finds so much joy in reaching new depths. Nonetheless, freediving will always equate to exploration, be it of underwater seascapes or of my innermost tendencies.

Taken by Gert Leroy on a fun dive session in Barracuda Lake, Coron. I dive down to 12m to check out what limestone formations are hiding beneath. If this video takes too long to load, check this out instead ;)

A post shared by Gert Leroy (@gertleroy) on Aug 1, 2017 at 3:58am PDT

*Personal Best: In depth disciplines, this refers to the deepest that a freediver has gone to without blacking out or losing motor control.

Turning two

2014 was the year I decided to take control of my life. I made a list of things I wanted to achieve for the year, focused my energy to accomplishing those, and successfully crossed out every item on the bucket list (plus a few more unlisted smaller achievements). It was the first year I really felt alive and powerful. And although it wasn't all fun and profit, it really felt like I took a big big leap in my personal development. There were a lot of new experiences that unfolded, limitations that were conquered, and lessons that were learned.

And so, this 2015, I intend to do the same but towards a different direction. I'll be exploring what I've always thought I wanted to do in order to prove (or disprove) this silly dream of travelling full-time and escaping corporate life. I know I'll make it through (somehow) but not without a couple of breakdowns and scratches. I'm curious to know how this attempt will turn out.

Cheers to my 2nd year of being in control!

L.

PS: Here's the link to my 2014 bucket list.