Notes on visiting Thailand

Some thoughts on Bangkok, Chiang Mai, and Phuket

I’ve wanted to visit Thailand going on 25 years now. It first started when I read The Beach by Alex Garland. Which, maybe that’s the kind of book that would make you not want to visit, but, I’m a Sagittarius.

The fascination increased as I developed interests in Thai food, and Muay Thai, and Buddhism (I wouldn’t call myself a Buddhist, but I do appreciate a lot of what Siddhartha Gautama had to say).

So when my partner

Cyn Grace, The Grey Strega

suggested Thailand for our honeymoon, I was thrilled. We ultimately started in Bangkok, took a sleeper train car to Chiang Mai, and then flew to Phuket.

Now here’s the thing; it may sound a little goofy, coming from a privileged Western white guy, but, Thailand is a very special place. The energy, the people, the food…

Within two hours of being there, we wondered if we should just send for the kids, and stay...

Bangkok is massive. Bigger than New York City, where I was born and raised—and New York City is pretty damn big. It is also a giant, constant traffic jam, so we spent most of our time there using public transit.

The Queen Mother Sirikit had recently passed, so the Grand Palace, and Wat Phra, the adjoining temple, were closed for the mourning period.

But we visited Wat Arun and Wat Mangkon—both stunning. It meant wearing pants, something I was not too thrilled about. Bangkok felt, to steal a phrase from the great Jordan Harper, like the inside of a dog’s mouth. It was rough when it was overcast, which was most of the time. When the sun came out it was nearly unbearable.

Cyn is a hothouse flower, whereas I’m an Irish vampire and would live in an ice cave if I could. But I bought linen pants, and that helped.

The thing about the wats (temples) is, you have to have to your shoulders and knees covered. Not everyone got that memo—I’ve never been so cognizant of knees—but my goal, always, is to be a traveler, not a tourist; respectful of local customs.

I love a good temple or church. I’m not a religious person, and I tend to cast a very suspicious eye toward anything organized, but I can’t help but marvel at the level of artistry and craftmanship that walks with faith.

Besides the temples, we wandered the alleys of Chinatown, and the Chatuchak Weekend Market, and all nine bougie levels of the Iconsiam shopping mall. We watched Muay Thai fights at Rajadamnern Stadium. We suffered analysis paralysis as we walked past the food carts, unsure of even where to start, before diving in and eating way too much, even though it felt like enough, because we wanted to try everything.

My favorite part of the trip, though, was Soi Cowboy. The red light district. It’s a short block, off the Asok station of the BTS. It was pure Blade Runner vibes, all neon and grime, except with less Harrison Ford and more white guys trying to amp themselves up to go into the girlie bars.

We found an open-air bar on the corner, and sat at the railing, drinking 90 baht Singha beers ($2.78 USD), watching the neighborhood breathe.

And then it began to rain like the Bible said it rained.

We watched the water level rise, until the bartenders asked us to move closer to the bar. We perched on stools, the water pooling underneath us, the roaches swarming for cover.

Rain that hard tends to pass quickly, so I asked the woman who’d been serving us drinks, “This’ll end soon, right?” She laughed, shook her head, and said, “All night like this.”

We ended up drinking a few more beers than we intended, and when the rain died down enough, we found some plastic bags to wrap around my shoes for the trip back to the hotel.

That bar, and that street, and that whole city are going to be in the next Assassins book. Maybe two months ago, my editor asked me to write a fourth book in the series, and I’d really been struggling to come up with a good concept.

I wasn’t in Bangkok long before I came across an idea. I went to Thailand without my laptop, determined to not work, but the fun thing about being a writer is you’re never not working (and also now I can write the trip off on my taxes).

AA4 is going to be called City of Killers. More on that, eventually.

Anyway, after Bangkok it was off to Chiang Mai. We took the sleeper train. The last time I took a sleeper was from Prague to Krakow, in a private berth, which was pretty nice. Those are hard to book on the Bangkok-to-Chiang Mai route. We ended up in second class; still not bad. It meant a long row of beds, and a shared bathroom (which, the less said about that the better).

I actually slept, which is always a victory. We made it into Chiang Mai, tired and filthy, and, props to the Chiang Mai Marriott, they were able to get us into our room right away.

This was like moving from Manhattan to Brooklyn. Big buildings and frenzy to something more chill and neighborhoody. We visited Wat Sri Suphan, the silver temple (the only temple Cyn wasn’t allowed inside, on account of her being a woman).

We went up the mountain to Wat Phra That Doi Suthep, then hiked down the Monk’s Trail to Wat Pha Lat, the forest temple.

Hey, so, quick note if you plan on going to Chiang Mai. Apparently a lot of people start at Wat Pha Lat, and hike up to Wat Phra That Doi Suthep. I thought it would be smarter to start at the top and work our way down.

Except, the hike is very muddy, and steep, and we did not pack hiking boots, and I must have bit it a dozen times on the way down, and ended up covered in mud, so… learn from my mistake. Don’t do that.

Still, it was worth the pain and the dirt to see this.

We timed our trip to coincide with the Loi Krathong festival, where people float decorated rafts called krathongs on water to honor Khongkha, the goddess of the river and water, and to release bad luck.

We made krathongs and released them on the Ping River. It made me think about the four noble truths, about the way suffering arises from attachment, and I like to think that I let some things go that night, but, who knows. Nirvana is a tough nut to crack.

I did get to fulfill a dream I’ve had for a very long time—training at a Muay Thai gym. I chose The Bear Fight Club, in part because it was only a 20-minute walk from our hotel, and if you’re there, and that kind of thing is your jam, I cannot recommend it highly enough.

I accomplished two goals. First is, I finished. Two hours in the heat and the sun is hard, but I spent months working on my conditioning. There were a couple of guys there who were younger, in better shape, who seemed to have a much harder time than I did.

Not that it was easy. But I finished.

And when I was hitting pads and sparring with the instructors—actual Muay Thai fighters—I landed a couple of shots that actually seemed to impress them. I would never claim to be a seasoned or talented fighter—I train because I enjoy it and it helps me stave off the slow march of time. And I will, at some point, probably write a separate post about that.

But I am beyond thrilled, to have had that experience.

That last night in Chiang Mai, we saw more Muay Thai fights—this time in the red light district. Which is where our hotel was situated, which was funny, because anytime I was walking with Cyn, I was invisible, but anytime I was walking alone, I would get swarmed.

The fights were a totally different vibe. Rajadamnern Stadium was a temple to the art. This was a back alley ring surrounded by girlie bars. The first fight we saw was between two kids who had to be seven or eight years old. People sat on plastic chairs around the ring, and as we had done, over and over, we pondered what it would take to move there.

Then it was off to Phuket—the Jersey Shore of Thailand.

Now, Phuket wasn’t bad. I’m glad we saw it. I’m not sure I would go back—it felt like we’d barely scratched the surface of Bangkok and Chiang Mai. I’m not a beach guy (again, Irish vampire), Phuket had more of a tourist vibe, it was slightly more expensive, and was way more spread out. We went to Old Town, and that was an hour drive. We considered visiting some of the surrounding islands, by Cyn doesn’t do well with boats, so we passed on that.

We both got bamboo tattoos in Patong, which was a very fun experience. Less painful than a gun tattoo—I nearly fell asleep during mine. We both worked with Yut at Joker Brothers, whom I would highly recommend.

I got a Sak Yant-adjacent tattoo. Traditional Sak Yant is done by a trained Buddhist monks or spiritual masters known as Ajarns, and involves a blessing ceremony. But it also comes with guidelines, like not killing (sure!), not lying (uh…), and not getting heavily intoxicated (uh-oh).

That felt a little heavy, so I split the difference—the style, and the method, without the blessing I feared I might not live up to. I was quite pleased with the results.

I’m being told that I’m reaching the limit for how much I can post, which I didn’t know is a thing, but that’s fine, we’re getting toward the end anyway.

I cannot recommend Thailand highly enough. The food is incredible. The language barrier is sometimes a challenge but not insurmountable. The exchange rate is incredibly favorable.

Get yourself some linen pants, and a good eSim (I used Holafly), and eat everything. There are 7/11s everywhere and they are a great place to find snacks, and bug spray, and break large bills, because Thailand is very cash-forward. Wear shoes you don’t mind destroying—we were averaging 20,000 steps a day.

Head on over to my Instagram, if you want to see more pictures/videos!

As honeymoons go, this was one for the books.

Now, back to work. Hey, Detour, the book I co-wrote with Jeff Rake, comes out Jan. 13—it’s available for pre-order!