The layout of Chiang Mai’s Old City appears tidy on a map, a perfect square of moat and brick that can make newcomers feel shielded. Spend a few days indoors, though, and you realize that like the city itself it’s all for show: more life-as-display than life, an urbane set-piece for people who want Thailand without the grime. The city that breathes, the one with sweat and cacophony and actual rhythm, doesn’t begin for a few kilometers past those walls. And no, you won’t be walking there unless you’re into hours of sticky heat and sidewalks that melt into a pile of nothing.
Really the only way to be here is by motobike. It’s the local DNA. After you organize a motorbike rental in Chiang Mai, maps cease to be of use and the city becomes scents and changes in temperature. You’re in a humid, oily mess of the market one minute; 10 minutes later, you’re standing in the cool mossy shadows of the foothills. That’s the freedom no one tells you about.
The forest temples that take the selfie out of selfies
Never mind Doi Suthep for a minute. Yes, it’s big. Yes, it’s gold. But it’s also a circus. And if you have wheels, venture even further south to the “craft” district near Baan Kang Wat. There’s a temple there called Wat Umong, but head straight past the main tunnel. Ride back a little, until the road becomes a narrow lane set off by huge rain trees.
I found a place back there one time (with no sign, just a falling-down stone gate) where the monks were literally sweeping leaves in utter silence. No gift shops. No “blessing” stations for $10. Nothing but the wind in the teak trees. You can’t order a Grab car to bring you there, either; the driver will assume you’re in need of medical help otherwise, since it’s physically impossible that anyone would deliberately drive into these dead-end residential streets. On a motobike? It’s just another Tuesday.
Markets for people who detest crowds
If you are still at the Sunday Walking Street, then you are effectively standing in a queue for some slow-moving pants that everybody else is wearing. It’s exhausting. Try riding your motobike at 4am instead in Muang Mai. Or just a random neighborhood market like Siri Wattana.
It’s a different world. You don’t “walk” these markets. You pass through the edges of them. You’ll see a dude on a scooter with fifty kilos of ice strapped to the back, zooming through all of the stalls as if he’s racing something. Ultimately, it’s a mess and it’s loud, and it feels perfectly honest. You pull up to a stall, purchase a bag of hot ginger soup and some fried dough, and you eat feelings right where you’re sitting. That’s truly Chiang Mai breakfast. No avocado toast in sight.
The gravel, the sand and ego
Let’s be honest: the roads here are out to get your soul. It is not the traffic (which is fairly predictable when you accept no one follows the “rules”) it is the debris. City crews like to leave small mountains of fine sand at corners on the most scenic mountain roadways.
I’ve watched it a dozen times. A rented Honda Click moron thinks he’s Marc Marquez on a hairpin bend, hits the gravel and all of a sudden there he is sliding across hot asphalt. The “farang tattoo” is a thing and it’s not how you want to be spending the remainder of your holiday. The trick? Don’t fight the motobike. Let it flow. And for the love of everything, look at the road not the view when you’re leaning into a curve.
Coffee where there shouldn’t be coffee
There’s this strange phenomenon in the North, where we have these epic baristas that are just like hid out in the middle of no where. I’m referring to places that require crossing a rickety wooden bridge and riding past three barking dogs only to encounter a mortar box of concrete serving a pour-over that would win prizes in London.
They’re typically on the “sois” (alleys) of Santitham or nestled in the mountains near Mae Hia. They don’t have parking lots. They have a stretch of dirt for five scooters. If you notice that there’s a row of motobikes parked in front a rickety shack then stop in. That’s often where the best caffeine is stashed. A private handshake for those who get around on their own.
The Samoeng Loop reality check
The Samoeng Loop is everyone’s favorite. It’s 100 kilometers in the mountains that I ride, and yeah, it’s beautiful. But it’s also a grind. And if you’re riding this route on a 125cc scoot, then by the time you reach halfway your engine is going be screaming for mercy.
The heat changes up there. It gets thinner, crisper. You walk through Hmong villages kids playing in the dirt, old men smoking pipes on their porches. It’s a look into a life not much changed in fifty years. But you have to be careful. These mountain buses (the big yellow ones) they don’t know about your “right of way.” They own the road. You’re just a guest. Keep to the left, don’t pass on a blind turn and everything will be all right.
The ritual of the checkpoint
You’ll see them eventually. A coterie of cops, standing at the moat corner and stopping every foreigner on a motobike. They’re hunting for licenses and helmets.
Look, it’s a bit of a game. If you have an international permit, go for it. Unless you don’t, in which case you’ll get a 500-baht fine. You get a tiny pink slip of paper which usually serves as a “pass” for the next three days. Don’t argue. Don’t be “that” tourist. Just pay the fine, smile and get out. That’s the price of doing business in paradise. But seriously, wear a helmet. Not for the police, but because Thai pavement is extremely tough.
Why you can’t go back
After a week on two wheels, the idea of hopping into the back of a taxi or at multicab feels like being sentenced to one. You’ve seen the back alleys. You have discovered the noodle shop that is open only at midnight. You know you’ve felt the temperature dip as you rode into the forest.
The thing with Chiang Mai is, that’s pretty much most of it. It’s not a city you look at, it’s a city you feel through the throttle. It’s a little dangerous, it’s great fun and it’s the one place left in which to discover those parts of the North that are not Disneyland.
Yeah, and then? You’re just going to pace their moat back and forth, or are you going to visit the city proper? But the mountains aren’t coming to you.
