Yesterday night trumped all sights I’ve seen yet in my limited travels. The Loy Krathong festival began Saturday, and by happenstance we learned that the epicenter of the evening was at the Mae Jo Agricultural University about 30 minutes north of town. Fast forward to what I saw:

10,000 lanterns in the sky!

Loy Krathong is a Buddhist adaptation of the Hindu festival honoring the water gods. The primary foci are releasing floating candles (the “loi krathong” which give the festival its name) into waterways to carry away bad luck, grudges, and other ill feelings. Additionally, thousands of paper lanterns are released into the sky for similar symbolic purposes. There’s a poorly written entry on Wikipedia for more information.

We hopped on the bike and drove to the school ahead of the crowds. Parking was available on a dirt road atop a canal’s levee. Crowds were beginning to develop along the water and meditation grounds. Vendors lined their carts along the canal. They sold food, lanterns, and loi krathong. Kids and teens had already started shooting off fireworks. The canal felt a bit like a war zone.

The canal and rickety bridge.

Securing the bamboo.

Kids throwing firecrackers into the canal.

Woman selling cotton candy.

Colorful loi krathong for sale.

The bulk of the festivities took place along a stage and large lawn lined with torches. Around 5:30 the dancing began. Various shows were performed in traditional Thai styles. Children, adults, and various groups participated. As the sun set, there was a Buddhist meditation ceremony.

Monk amongst torches.

Beauty queen.

Lantern.

Part of the Thai orchestra.

Dancers.

More dancers offstage, scoping the competition.

A lot of Thai dances are very subtle and rely on complicated movement of the hands.

More dancers.

Monks waiting around for something.

A crazy modified motorcycle that housed a full band on a platform. I love the side view mirrors.

A 200 strong group of housewives performs a candle dance.

Decorative lantern lights in a tree.

J. waiting for the real fun to begin.

Then, the moment everyone was waiting for: the lighting of the lanterns. Candles were lit, people unfurled their charges and lighted the wicks.

People waiting for the command to release.

J. and our lantern.

Ladies and their lantern.

Release.

Ascension.

Jackpot.

Click here for a video J. shot and I edited of the lanterns getting released.

Fireworks.

More fireworks.

And more. They made the sky look like galaxies.

Most lanterns were released simultaneously. The officials estimated 10,000 lanterns, and I believe it. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s like standing at the bottom of an illuminated ocean of jelly fish, or maybe flying through outer space. After the first batch of lanterns, people continued to launch more over the next few hours. The sky was a steady field of twinkling man-made stars. There were fireworks and music. It was very beautiful, more a dreamworld than real.

On the way home, we got caught in horrible traffic. The bikes and cars were packed together like fish in an aluminum container full of brine and oil with a pull top that peels off. I had to take off my helmet because the air was so full of exhaust. On the drive home, we passed by the grey blobs of lanterns that had fallen from the sky. They lined the road, were stuck on power lines, trees, and buildings.

There are more days of festival ahead of us. I’m looking forward to heading to the river in town to experience again the beautiful battlefield that is this celebration of floats, flames, fireworks, parades, and food.

Note: J. posted a bunch more of my lantern photos on her blog too.

Yesterday before lunch, I went for a drive. The scooter zoomed under the weight of just one farang.

A few turns up the road to Doi Suthep was a small parking area for a waterfall. As far as I can tell the place didn’t even have a name, and from above it was impossible to see the drop. The picnic pavilions overlooked a broad, smooth stone bank of a stream. I parked my motorbike in the shade of a tree and started exploring.

Turning left, there was a steep dirt trail heading down through the woods. At some parts, natural ladders were made by tree roots. At the bottom of the trail was a small canyon surrounded by vine-covered trees. The stone bottom of the canyon had been smoothed by water. As my clogs have lost tread, the stones were slippery. I was alone down there. Butterflies and dragonflies congregated around the plants in the slow moving water past the base of the falls. The falls weren’t tall, but they spilled down the hill in three distinct stages. There was the litter of idiotic Thai youth who both hung out and sullied the place.

The trail.

The falls.

Red dragonfly.

Beautiful blue-green dragonfly that was impossible to photograph.

Flowering tree.

Perfectly cleaved corner in the river bottom.

Tigers watching the falls.

They can take away our buildings, but they can’t take away our chimneys!

I plopped myself in the shade, ate a bean bun, sipped some water and listened to the roar of water on rock. I relaxed and thought about those things that only a person at peace with the world thinks about: nature, family, the future, sexy butts, video games, mathematics.

I headed home for lunch. I told J. all about the falls hoping to inspire seething jealously over my lone adventure. Success. Before dinner, we headed up to the falls together so she could see. As the sun set, the lighting was perfect for longer shots of the falls. That’s when the magic happens. Photographers call it the “Radicool Blurring Water Hour.” Here are some photos of the falls at this hour.

Stage 1.

Stage 2.

Stage 3.

As the sun set, bats came out to eat the bugs I’d seen earlier that day. I lied on my back looking up at the moon between the dark jungle on my sides. The water rushed around me. I closed my eyes and the sound washed over me like the sound of water rushing over rocks. It did this because that was the sound I was hearing.

It was a good day.

The past few days have been nice. Not memorable, just nice. On Friday, J. and I went on a drive to Huay Tung Tao Reservoir.

Clothes drying above a large bin at a garbage dump.

Hanging plants at a nursery.

Vegetables growing under plastic at an out of place field along the canal road.

A cow sits on a hill overlooking an intersection.

It was our third visit to the reservoir. As before, we took advantage of riding along the lakeside road without helmets. I wouldn’t flirt with death in any other place; the reservoir road is small, slow speed, and virtually free of any other vehicles. Plus, the breezes and scenery are so good they just scream for an unblocked view. The rice fields on the northern side were turning golden. Numerous swifts were flying above the grain and eating insects.

Our scooter route off the road.

Tall, white topped grasses were rustling.

Rice fields and farmer hut.

Rice detail. Getting yellow there, rice. Getting yellow.

We settled on a row of floating huts on the south side of the lake. As it was a weekday, crowds were low. Our hut was a very, very, very fine hut. The refurbished bamboo and grass roof structure was reached by a bundled bamboo bridge. In the murky water around the hut lingered numerous fish. Some scrambled for rice that “accidentally” fell off the table. I don’t think even Thai fish eat rice, so they must have thought the grains were maggots.

We ate three dishes, with beer, for lunch and played an epic game of rummy, solitaire, and double solitaire. Rain looked eminent, but it never came.

The bamboo bridges.

Spicy cold pork salad.

Pork fried with holy basil.

Papaya salad.

After lunch, a truck pulled up to the restaurant. It had a metal tank in the back that sloshed water. The driver took a net and scooped hundreds of small fish into buckets that the staff of the restaurant had at the ready. But instead of bringing the fish into the kitchen, the bucket brigade dumped them in the lake. When I investigated the shore, I found a little pile of fish under water. Not all had survived the truck ride.

Dead fish.

On Sunday, we got up late and left the house for lunch even later. We went to a place along the canal road that served soup and chicken. The soup was good. The chicken was good. For desert, we decided to pick up two bean buns a piece and eat them at Huay Kaew Waterfall. I learned that day that a belly full of soup and two spongy bean buns does not make for a gas-less afternoon. As we sat and watched the water fall and dogs and people play in the stream, my stomach expanded to Violet Beauregarde proportions. At least it felt that way. For the rest of the day, J. just rolled me wherever I needed to go.

U-turn bridge blocked on the canal road.

There must have been walls planned for these ill-fated stairs.

The CMU clock tower.

People playing in the water at the falls.

Two short dogs waiting patiently for scraps of food.

I spent the afternoon deflating enough to eat some snacks at the Sunday Walking Street Market. But the addition of mixed fermented salad, coconut cookies, fresh strawberry smoothie, and iced coffee re-busted my gut. I didn’t sleep well that night, but I think my tape worms are well fed.

Today, while J. worked on her portfolio I went on a walk. The weather was beautiful. My route took me across the canal and up towards the athletic park on Huay Kaew Road. I was sweaty by the time we met up for lunch.

Foundation pit flooded with water.

Bamboo scaffolding.

I love how simple the filing system of this mail box is.

Chiang Mai Vice.

Exploded and charred electrical box.

One of my favorite drinks, thai lime tea.

For lunch J had cashew chicken.

I had a yellow curry, egg, and chicken dish.

What’s left of a house: the bathroom wall. The toilet used to be there last I checked. Someone must have knocked it over.

Puff balls on the gate.

Engrish inside our apartment lobby.

In the last few days, it feels like a switch has been flipped inside me. I’m old now. I feel sluggish and sore and am more prone to flatulence. My eyes look tired. My chest feels weak. Have I reached the point where my body stops growing and starts dying? Did I just get some mysterious disease while in India? Only time and avoidance of doctors will tell.