I stepped through the doorway, took off my shoes and slid into a pair of Chinese slippers. The floor was of varnished mahogany, the furniture inside the teahouse similarly polished to a high sheen, with quintessential Chinese designs finely engraved into every nook and cranny. In the far corner stood a man, dressed in traditional clothing – of which tradition it was hard to tell – with a silver teapot in his hand and a serene smile on his face.

The last few days were rough. Rob and I both got food poisoning from an ill-conceived late night hot dog binge, and spent our final hours taking turns packing and puking. Farewells were a fever dream; my nausea felt like a premonition – leaving Chiang Mai literally made me sick.

Succeeding as a foreign entrepreneur in Chiang Mai, or anywhere else in Thailand for that matter, is not easy. Expats who’ve been here for some years will vouch for that. Foreign owned restaurants, for instance, come and go as regularly as the three Thai seasons. There are however a handful of entrepreneurs who came to Chiang Mai for a holiday, like so many of us, and ended up taking a bright idea and turning it into a remarkable business.

Who doesn’t love Chiang Mai? We all say we do, but do any of us actually take care of our so called love? In the past it was frustrating for the average citizen lacking a voice or the power to affect change, but with today’s social media, we can all speak up. And amazingly, we are being heard, and even listened to! The more of us shouting together, the louder the message will be received by those who are hindering or can help.

After a few quiet months, Chiang Mai’s festive season has started with a spectacular bang. Following a strange cold spell last week, this past weekend saw enough events to keep Steve Yarnold from complaining of boredom for a few days. A running commentary by many people who attended these events was that Chiang Mai is almost unrecognizable from the city it was in the past. Sophisticated affairs – sans flip flop – incredible world cuisines and wines and high caliber art work battled it out for our attention.

Throughout my stay in Mae Kor, a Karen village northwest of Chiang Mai city, villagers often emphasised the importance of the forest to their lives. “In the city, you have supermarkets. In Mae Kor, we have the forest. In the forest, we can gather vegetables and hunt animals for meat.” Paet, a 34 year old villager, quips. “Everything is free! No money is needed!” he added, grinning widely.

I drive around the suburb of Hang Chat in Lampang, stopping every few minutes to ask another person to point me towards the town’s sword maker. Down a rural road, past a Tesco Lotus sign, some noodle shops, and a field of horses, I find a sign that reads “Hit the Knife Group Station.” It is the shop and home of Bunthun Sitthipaisan, one of Thailand’s last and most renowned sword makers.

In Chiang Mai, where the acoustic guitars are oh-so-delicate and the sweet lullabies of modern pop covers pair perfectly with a steaming, artsy latte, it’s easy to conclude that you’re in a musical fairyland void of anything heavy. But when they get the chance, Chiang Mai’s fledgling scene of metal and hardcore bands turn up loud, and force all virgin ears to run for the hills.

Thailand used to be notorious, and in many ways still is, for its sabai sabai pace of change, especially when it came to reform and the implementation of government policies, the much needed education reform and now the constitutional reform seem to be moving at a slug’s pace.

We may not be getting the rain, but Chiang Mai is thronging with tourists at the moment. I like the tourists being here. Some of them sit down and talk to me. I like them because they are not jaded like me and mostly incredibly excited about the adventures they are having and the escapades ahead of them. I apologise to anyone who would prefer the epithet ‘traveller’, but frankly your hair is far too soft, shiny and well cared for.

“No matter where I go, or what I do, I always want to come back here,” explains Waewdao Sirisook fondly, gesturing to the sunny, bustling streets of Chiang Mai that surround the coffee shop where we meet. Waewdao has been dancing for over 20 years, a passion that has jettisoned her around the globe, a skill that can be seen in the slightest of her movements, a connection to her body evident in the nonchalant but elegant wave of her hand. “The people here, no matter how I perform, no matter what kind of dance it is, come out and support me. I will always come back to show them what I’ve learned, no matter what.”

We are inundated by advertising; and no, the irony is not lost on me. Whether by emails, in text messages, on Facebook, online, on television and radio, or in print, everywhere we look, we are told that we need to whiten our skin, blacken our hair, de-yellow our teeth. We’re urged to detox, retox and get botox. We’re seduced by images of luxury cars, penthouses, trips to Europe, if only we’re willing to put ourselves just that little further into debt. Temptations, temptations…

There I was, stuck in a gas station, zombies banging at the door and only a pile of garbage and a small knife to determine my fate. The atmosphere is tense and tentative. One false move and I’ll lose the last bag of medical supplies that I desperately need to get back to camp. I roll…I get bitten and I die. The medical supplies are lost; a harsh blow to our remaining zombie apocalypse survivors. I pass the dice to the right, bringing my disastrous turn to an end. I order a coffee, take a breather, and begin to hatch a new plan for my only surviving character, vowing to make up for my poor choices that left me dying in a pool of zombie blood.

Matters concerning gender and sexual orientation have not been easy for the Christian Church. The church is still divided on what’s fundamentally the right way to be, just as sections of the hoi polloi – after all this so-called cultural modernisation we’ve ostensibly embraced – still denounce or renounce the way some people just are. It’s a sin, say some denominations such as the Evangelical Covenant Church, concerning homosexuality; while the Roman Catholic Church has merely called being gay a ‘moral disorder’ that is part of the devil’s wicked scheme. And while some progressive measures have been taken in the name of LGBT rights and the church, such as an actual ‘Inclusive Church’ being formed; the acceptance of gay marriage (notably, recently in Ireland), or denominations forming their own branches of the church that are more in tune with human rights, it looks like in many good church-goers’ eyes you are destined for an afterlife in the eternal fire simply for loving or lusting after someone whom they say you shouldn’t.

The land on the road to Ban Boonyuen is scarred. The rolling hillsides previously lush with teak and fruit trees now a barren horizon of dusty, brown mounds and scattered rice cultivations. I tightly hug each turn of the narrow road in anticipation of passing cars, but there aren’t any. The land is a shadow of what it once was, a dense jungle thriving with wildlife and an intricate ecosystem that supported the ways of hunter-gatherers for at least a thousand years. It is obvious, looking at the bare terrain that there’s nothing left to hunt; there’s nothing left to gather.

Thailand is synonymous with rice. We eat rice daily (well, until 7-Elevens popped up everywhere) and many of our customs and traditions have come from rice cycles and activities. We even have a national holiday in homage of rice – the Royal Ploughing Day. So this month we thought we would bring you three restaurants where rice isn’t just served as a staple afterthought, but where the white grains of joy are the actual star of the show!

I’ve done something terrible. Possibly unforgivable. Something I want my family and loved ones to know I regret deeply. It’s not the first time I have done this, but, if I can be forgiven – perhaps allowed a second chance and with the help of Jesus – I will never do it again. There will be some of you who can relate to this, and, if you cannot, then please let my story be a warning, an exemplar and a deterrent. I went to McDonald’s. I done a McDonald’s. I paid a visit to, I called on, I whored myself to a McDonald’s. I chased the dragon through the Golden Arches.

Let’s talk about boobs. I have a pair. I rather like them. I never thought that they were of any great importance to anyone but me, or whomever chooses to appreciate them, let alone be of enough significance to pose a threat to my country. But I am told I’m wrong.

It’s naughty, it’s sexy, it’s everywhere – if you know where to look. Chiang Mai is home to dozens of short term hotels, euphemistically called love hotels. They range from the seedy drive-in and curtained-off rent-by-the-hour dives to some exquisite playgrounds of love (ok, lust) where couples (even oddly enough, families) can go and stay for a night or two, enjoying a variety of themed rooms and wholesome (…or not) sexual fun.

In early September, 36 migrant workers on a Chiang Mai building site went on strike. The men, from Burma, claimed they had been paid considerably less than the minimum wage and had not received passports and work permits they had paid for. The matter was eventually resolved but the rare incident highlighted the problems faced by migrant workers in northern Thailand, which experts say have worsened since the May 22 coup.

It all happens quite seamlessly. You’re at Tha Pae Gate on a peaceful Saturday morning. The square is mostly empty save for a few stray tourists, some street vendors, and a flock of pigeons. Then a frail old man with a puffy gray beard casually rides along your line of sight on his three-wheel bicycle. He stops, looks at you, smiles, and opens his arms wide, revealing the design on the oversized t-shirt he’s wearing, which reads “free hugs” in over a dozen different languages. You know what you’re supposed to do next, but understandably you might hesitate a bit. He’s a scruffy man in his early 50s, and looks like he might be homeless. But he has kindness in his eyes, and gives you a head nod to let you know it’s alright. You open your arms and it happens: a hug. Stepping back, returning to your day slightly changed, you may wonder why people don’t do that sort of thing more often. It’s kind of nice.

It is The Smog – the environmental fiasco year after year seeping into our lungs, our hearts, our eyes and our lives around late-February and extending its visit into the Songkran festivities. Breaths become shallower and outdoor activities lose their attraction; governmental scrutiny intensifies and Facebook becomes a hub for the latest pollution grievances. But this should not be our “normal” – 2015 needs to be the year of forward thinking.

A list of strange things Thai parents tell their children

Orapin Paiponganurak was seven years old when she became afflicted with Rheumatoid Arthritis, a debilitating autoimmune disorder that attacks the joints. Born to a poor Karen family of farmers in a remote village in Mae Sariang, she was left with few options.

When was the last time you saw a chair of animal horns or a Buddhist temple depicting hell’s tortures? If you’re the sort that like to get off the beaten path in your travels, however, you’ve landed on the right page. Rent a scooter or car and make your way to some of the best places around the region.