Well, what an end to our long break in Thailand.

Just a few hours before our flight home, the world decided otherwise. War and conflict elsewhere meant our flight was cancelled. Everything was ready: bags packed, the bike stored away, and our belongings carefully left for our next return. Then the message arrived, flight cancelled.

Fortunately, we were able to stay in the apartment we rent, and we quickly retrieved the bike so we had transport again. Friends who visited recently had thoughtfully brought us tea bags, so that crisis was avoided. In truth, the three essentials for an English traveller are now secure: accommodation, transport, and tea.

So what to do? Keep calm and carry on, of course.

One salutary lesson we have learned from this experience: if possible, buy your flight directly from the airline rather than through an online travel agent, even if it costs a little more. We have spent hours sitting at the computer trying to get through to someone, anyone, at the agency. Mostly we have just waited… and waited.

Still, it could be worse. We might have made it as far as the Middle East and been stranded there, which would have been far more complicated. In that sense, we have been luckier than many.

Most of our friends have now left, or are about to, as we enter the “smoky season” here in Chiang Mai. The temperature is around 35°C and riding the bike, which once felt like a refreshing breeze, now feels rather like riding directly into a giant hot hair dryer.

The haze in the mountains comes from fires set by villagers burning ground cover in the forests so they can find the mushrooms that soon appear and provide a useful cash crop. There are strict penalties for doing this, but the fires are usually lit at night, making it difficult to catch those responsible. The result is a heavy haze and, at times, rather poor air quality.

Fortunately, we’ve had a few dramatic thunderstorms recently. The rain clears the air for a few days and brings a welcome drop in temperature. After the rain the frogs begin their nightly concert. Judging by the enthusiasm and volume, it seems every frog in the district has been invited.

One of our favourite places to sit is the balcony. It overlooks a patch of land full of trees and wildlife with the mountains beyond. The birdlife alone is extraordinary: kingfishers, myna birds, coucals, Asian koels, sunbirds, bulbuls, barbets and tailorbirds.

We’ve also seen pond herons and birds of prey, and who knows what else lurking in the undergrowth, like these..

Squirrels dart through the trees, tokay lizards make their presence known, and I’m fairly sure the occasional snake passes through as well.

Speaking of snakes, this one was spotted on the road outside our apartment chasing frogs and small prey. It was a sunbeam snake, apparently harmless, which was reassuring after the fact. Very pretty colours and about 1m long.

With fewer visitors in the city, there are some unexpected positives. The markets are smaller, quieter and easier to navigate, traffic is lighter, and we often find we have the pool entirely to ourselves.

So for now we wait. Three flights have been cancelled so far, but we are hoping to make it onto the next one scheduled for the 21st of March from Bangkok.

P.S. We are practising patience while waiting for the next flight. It’s a difficult discipline, but the balcony view and the tea help enormously

It’s time for the 49th Chiang Mai Flower Festival. We had friends visiting, and there was absolutely no question what we were taking them to. This is our event. Our turf. Our annual excuse to act like overexcited children in public.

This year it was delayed a week because of elections (normally it blooms into life the first weekend of February), and with Chinese New Year just around the corner, the city was already heaving. Chiang Mai was buzzing with lanterns, chatter, fire crackers, music — that delicious hum of something about to happen.

The night before the parade we headed into the park. And honestly? It felt like stepping into a fairy grotto.

Lights draped from trees.

Reflections dancing on the lake. Flower displays so intricate they looked almost unreal.

Everywhere you turned, colour. People posing. People preening. Children zooming around on sugar highs.

It was magical chaos, and I loved every second.

Now. The drama.

Facebook had the audacity to announce that our usual parade-watching spot was “the best place for photos.” Excuse me? That was our secret.

Naturally, it was rammed.

Gone were the hotel freebies of drinks, snacks and proper toilets. Only hotel guests now 🙁 A tragic loss. But we are seasoned professionals. We arrived early and successfully claimed a wall. A wall! For five whole hours. Victory.

And then…that sound.

I am, unapologetically, a giant child. When you hear the distant drums… the faint brass getting closer… that rising ripple of excitement in the crowd, it gives me goosebumps every time. You can feel the parade before you see it.

Then the floats arrive.

Thousands, and I mean thousands of flowers. Orchids, marigolds, roses, blooms I can’t even name. Swirling designs. Elephants. Buddhas. Mythical creatures.

Entire dreamscapes rolling slowly past like a psychedelic garden on wheels.

The participants somehow still look radiant despite a 6am start and a five hour walk in from the station outside the city, looping around the moat before reaching the park.

If you point a camera at them instant energy. Smiles. Waves. Full performance mode. Honestly, they put us all to shame.

The marching bands, mostly school bands are phenomenal. Tight formations. Huge sound. Months of practice evident in every step.

Drums pounding. Brass shining. Teenagers absolutely owning it. I really hope the photos capture even half their flair.

Then come the dancers. Flags spinning. Batons flying. Perfect catches (mostly, which makes it even better). Costumes bursting with colour. It’s a blur of joy.

There are tiny vintage-style cars carrying impossibly poised young Thai princesses.

Rickshaws with men in dresses having the absolute time of their lives — and it’s just… normal. Celebrated. Joyful. Inclusive. It’s one of the things I love most about events here.

There must have been 25 floats. Squillions of flowers. Flora, fauna, mythical beasts…the works. It’s the kind of spectacle that makes you blink and think, “Is this real?”

Then all five bands combined for the grand finale — one giant, perfectly timed, brilliantly loud wall of sound. It was magnificent.

Once the parade ends, the floats arrive outside the park so you can wander up close. And that’s when you notice the details, the intricate carving, the delicate flower placement.

Then on the outside of the park all the flower competition entries. The stunning bonsai, miniature forests that look older than civilisation. Competition winners displaying their worthy medals.

And of course food. Endless food. This is Thailand. You are never more than three steps away from something sizzling, skewered or sweet. Starvation is simply not an option.

There’s live music on a big stage, singers, full entertainment mode activated. It’s not just a parade it’s an all-day, all-night celebration of colour, creativity and community.

Our friends were completely won over. They said they’d come back next year.

Which made us ridiculously happy.

Because this festival? It never gets old. Looking forward to the 50th Chiang Mai Flower festival, bring it on.

A new bike changes everything. Suddenly, distances that once felt way too ambitious now look… tempting. With a bit more power under us (and the comfort of riding two-up without sounding like a struggling lawnmower), northern Thailand started quietly expanding on the map. One of those “we’ve never actually been there” places was Phayao.

Phayao sits roughly halfway between Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai—about a hundred miles of road that we mostly devoured via the main highways, more practical than poetic. By the time we rolled into town, the pace dropped instantly. We checked into a hotel near the vast lake, ringed by mountains that looked permanently relaxed, like they’d seen it all and weren’t in a rush anymore.

Phayao is sleepy in the nicest possible way. Men lined the lakeshore with a frankly competitive number of fishing rods each, ice-cream sellers drifted past, and coffee shops seemed to exist purely for lingering. We wandered without purpose, had lunch, and practiced the fine art of watching life go by. Thai tourists were everywhere—families, couples, friends—armed with ice creams and enjoying the rare gift of good weather and nowhere urgent to be.

Then came the evening food hunt. This is where being spoiled by Chiang Mai becomes a problem. Endless choice at home does not prepare you for bad reviews, early closing times, and menus that don’t spark joy. By 7:30pm, Phayao was already tucking itself into bed. Still, we found something eventually, ate with gratitude, and reminded ourselves that travel is not always about the perfect meal. We found a bar with music that looked fun and inviting, a musical ending to a glorious day.

The next morning brought fresh optimism—and the same breakfast issue. Noodles or congee? Again? Neither was floating my boat. We fueled up as best we could and focused instead on what we were really excited about: leaving the city via a more scenic route and letting the road do the talking.

Not long after this trip we headed north again, this time to Chiang Dao. Mountains rose dramatically as we approached, mist clinging to them like a well-styled accessory.

It was noticeably cooler, especially in the early morning—a reminder that Thailand does, in fact, own a jumper or two.

Chiang Dao’s famous cave was the main event. For a small fee, a local village guide led us through with nothing but a kerosene lamp and a lot of confidence.

Narrow gaps connected cavern to cavern, and “mind head Madame” became a constant, necessary chant. Many years of yoga helped, squeezing through impossibly small gaps!

Every formation had an identity—elephants, lions, curtains, turtles—if you could imagine it, it was probably in there.

The cave was enormous and took about an hour to explore, leaving us equal parts impressed and slightly hunched.

Our hotel faced the mountain and felt like a reward. It was newly built, with friendly owners and a photo worthy view. Lovely.

Even better, we rediscovered a craft beer bar we’d visited years ago when it first opened. Seeing it expanded, busy, and thriving felt oddly satisfying. We ate well, drank happily, and toasted to longer rides, familiar places changing, and the quiet joy of finally going somewhere that had been waiting patiently on the map all along.

Before heading home, we rode up to the viewpoint in the national park. The road climbed steeply, twisting and narrowing. At the top, instead of silence, we found life in full swing—coffee shops, camping cabins on raised platforms, and a cheerful crowd already awake and busy.

Children ran between tripods, dogs supervised proceedings, and everyone was carefully angling themselves toward the misty mountains, coffee in hand, capturing the moment before it slipped away.

Standing there, surrounded by people pausing—really pausing—it felt like the perfect full stop to the trip.

Phayao with its slow lake days, Chiang Dao with its cool mornings, caves, and familiar beer bars, and now this shared mountaintop ritual of photos, laughter, and caffeine. These were places we’d skimmed past before, now finally given time.

We rode home with that quiet satisfaction that comes from going a little further than usual—not just on a better bike, but in curiosity. Proof that sometimes all it takes is a bit more power, a willingness to take the longer route, and the patience to stop, drink the coffee, and enjoy the view—before remembering you still have to ride all the way back down again.

Ninety minutes on a plane is all it takes to travel from the calm, mountain greenery of Chiang Mai to the joyful chaos of Hanoi. Blink and you’re in Vietnam’s capital: louder, busier, and somehow more alive than you remember, which is saying something. We came here just before Covid, and ever since, Hanoi has been sitting in the back of our minds like an unfinished conversation. Now we’re back, and it feels instantly familiar and gloriously overwhelming.

We’re staying in the Old Quarter, which is less a neighbourhood and more a full-contact sport. It’s the epicentre of nightlife, narrow roads, and full sensory overload.

Streets fold into each other, scooters appear from nowhere, and every square metre is doing three jobs at once. This time, instead of ticking off museums and monuments, though we did those last visit, including the sobering Hanoi Hilton and the imposing Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, we’ve decided on a simpler plan: walk, wander, get lost, repeat.

The Old Quarter rewards this approach. 36 ancient streets named after traditional crafts.

The streets are crammed with people, traders, motorbikes, rickshaws, restaurants and coffee shops — often all at the same time. If you think something might exist, it does, and it’s probably selling snacks.

The city lake Hò Hoãn Kièn becomes the beating heart of Hanoi on Friday, Saturday and Sunday when the roads close and the entire population seems to emerge at once.

There are Zumba classes and shuffle dancers with booming speakers, musicians, artists, rollerbladers, and kids staying up far later than they ever would at home. It’s communal, joyful and slightly chaotic — and they genuinely want you to join in.

With Chinese New Year approaching, the lake becomes a living photo studio.

Hundreds of young women in beautiful dresses pose with flowers while friends crouch, angle and adjust for the perfect shot.

Nearby, food stalls sizzle endlessly and a sprawling market buzzes away. I love this part of Hanoi — it feels inclusive, celebratory, and very much alive.

Train Street is another highlight. Cafés line the railway tracks, and you sit there calmly drinking coffee while knowing, at some point, a train will appear.

When it does, the café owners spring into action, moving tables, chairs and customers with choreographed urgency. The train we saw was enormous, travelling all the way from Ho Chi Minh City, and passed so close it felt like it might steal your shoelaces. Coffee with a side of adrenaline.

Evenings often end on Beer Street, where the primary activities are people-watching and “just one more”. Officially, bars aren’t allowed to put tables and chairs on the road. Unofficially, they absolutely do, until word travels down the street that a van full of police are approaching.

What follows is a hilarious military-style operation: chairs stacked, tables whisked away, customers relocated mid-sip. Sometimes they’re not fast enough, the furniture gets confiscated, and fines are paid. The rest of us sip our beers and enjoy the show.

To keep the crowds entertained, sword swallowers, fire eaters and anyone with something to sell drift past, adding to the nightly theatre.

Hanoi doesn’t try to impress you — it simply carries on being itself, and you’re welcome to keep up if you can.

On the other side of the city are some very high end hotels and a shopping mall that is just full of Cartier, Gucci, Rolex, Burberry, Armani and countless other luxury brands all housed in a beautiful gilt and marble edifice. You can shop til you drop. We took a pit stop in the opulent bathrooms and rode the elevators. This city has everything.

That’s why we wanted to come back. Not for the landmarks this time, but for the feeling of being dropped into the middle of a city that never slows down, never tidies itself up for visitors, and somehow makes room for everyone anyway. Hanoi isn’t polished, but it’s generous, funny, and endlessly watchable, leaving again already feels like another unfinished conversation.

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Sometimes the best travel days are the ones you don’t plan. With Chiang Mai still buzzing, we decided to escape to the next mountain along, Doi Saket, about a 40 minute ride away. We’d been before and loved it: winding roads, coffee growers, and lots of coffee shops. The plan was simple, enjoy the ride, have lunch out and drink good coffee. Naturally, the plan lasted about five minutes.

We got lost. Which, as it turns out, was exactly what we were meant to do.

Perched on a hill we spotted an enormous statue and temple, clearly still under construction. Curiosity won. We parked up and wandered around what turned out to be the largest statue I’ve ever seen on top of a half built temple, and utterly impressive. Then we heard it, what sounded like fireworks, and music.

Looking out over the countryside, we thought we knew where it might be coming from. Moments later, we were back on the bike, following a stream of people in colourful tribal dress, all riding in the same direction. When in doubt, follow the locals, especially when they’re clearly heading somewhere interesting.

We arrived at a clearing with what looked like a maypole attached to a tree (slightly undercover), a church, and dozens of people sitting around. Children were gleefully throwing firecrackers, running wild, and having the time of their lives, refreshingly phone-free and gloriously chaotic.

We’d barely dismounted when a man came over, greeted us warmly, asked where we were from, and then, in perfect English, invited us to stay for the New Year celebrations of three Lahu villages. Music, dancing, lunch, the whole day. “Please stay,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

We were the only non-Lahu people there, accidental gatecrashers at a major celebration, and yet we were welcomed like honoured guests. Everyone wore traditional dress. We learned they were Christians, with strong English thanks to years of missionary visits. Over the course of the day, all three village heads came to speak with us, along with two pastors and a man who now lives in Sydney. It was deeply humbling.

The dancing began..and didn’t stop. Men led the way, playing flutes, drums and cymbals, circling the central pole. One dancer at the front jumped, kicked, stamped and twirled, changing steps every few minutes while everyone followed.

Then the women joined, forming a second circle around the men, moving in the opposite direction, line dancing style, with drums, cymbals and small gongs. It was mesmerising, joyful, communal, and full of life.

Around the edges, children played endlessly. No phones. No distractions. Just pure, old-school fun.

We were plied with cold drinks, trays of biscuits, and enormous sunflower seeds while we watched it all unfold. Then lunch arrived, potato soup with a little meat, glass noodles, fresh cabbage leaves, spicy chilli dip, red sticky rice and white rice, all served on a large leaf. It was delicious — and we ate every last bite, much to the delight of the people sitting around us.

After lunch came singing, then, after a few songs, one man stood up and announced he would sing English songs for the “honoured guests.” At this point I was at serious risk of dehydration from blubbing. The kindness, the inclusion, the generosity — all shown to two strangers who had simply stumbled into their celebration — was overwhelming.

More dancing followed. More conversations. We asked what people did for work and learned that while some were coffee farmers and orange growers many worked in the city, in banks, shops, and running their own businesses. Tradition and modern life, side by side.

Eventually, I was beckoned into the dance myself by a line of smiling women who clearly weren’t taking no for an answer. Resistance was futile.

As we were leaving, our new friend said, “Please come again next year.” And we absolutely will.

This day — unplanned, unexpected, and unforgettable — is what makes Thailand, and its wonderfully varied people, so incredible. It was also a gentle reminder of something many of us in the Western world have lost: true community spirit. And sometimes, all it takes to find it is getting a little bit lost.

One of the very best things about Thailand (there are many contenders) is the people. They are funny, helpful, generous, joyous good natured humans who make daily life such a pleasure. It beats the angry, inconsiderate bunch who you often come across in our own home towns. If you are out in the middle of nowhere people will immediately help. They smile, make phone calls and treat your crisis as a group project they are delighted to be part of. It’s heart warming, mildly embarrassing and a refreshing change. Conversely if you are disrespectful or aggressive it can go horribly wrong for you, they don’t suffer fools gladly. Once you’ve crossed that invisible line smiles disappear quicker than a cold beer on a hot day!

We were sat in a bar with friends and a woman from another bar, decided subtlety was overrated and roared up on her motorbike in full Xmas regalia saying ‘come to my new bar’ gave directions and a cheeky wink and disappeared into the night in a festive blur of tinsel. It was Christmas Eve in Thailand, mildly surreal, totally unapologetic and very entertaining.

The bar owners didn’t blink an eyelid, no animosity or ‘what do you think you are doing’ Totally unfazed they just carried on pouring drinks.

When a car stops in the middle of a road holding up traffic for 10 minutes no one leans on their horn or loses their mind they just sit calmly and wait it out, it’s a much better way to live your life. I’m really hoping it rubs off. I’ll know when I return home and still feel this relaxed when someone steals my parking space whether Thailand has truly worked its magic.

It’s very busy in the city lots of out of town Thai visitors arrive for the holidays.

We decided to just watch the fireworks on top of our apartments roof, 7 floors up. It was a perfect spot with fireworks going off all round the city.

We have been in the old city on New Year’s Eve many times. Years ago when you were allowed to release lanterns, hundreds were launched at midnight and they set fire to lots of the trees, drunken tourists, chairs. It was a lot of fun but absolute chaos. To the roof..much safer.

Our local Wat is called Wat Jed Yod and was one of the earliest temples in Chiang Mai built in 1455. It’s a very pretty temple with lots of trees in the grounds and many buildings and stupors.

It’s only 5 minutes from where we stay, it’s cool and calming in the heat of the afternoon. Chris has a really good trick with the big Buddhist gongs. Turn up the volume.

We are waiting for a few more days until a lot of the visitors have disappeared to go for longer rides out. Local rides around villages close by are always interesting. Just watching life quietly unfurl around you, monks ambling along, children playing it’s a great way to spend an afternoon. The blossom is out.

We are going on Monday to Chiang Dao, north of CM.

It has some of the best undulating pretty roads I’ve ever seen, dense forests and hanging mist draped mountains. We’ll stay overnight in a homestay, can’t wait.

It’s that time of year again not long to go until Christmas and we’re in our favourite place, Chiang Mai. The weather is perfect now, blue sky, not too hot, friendly faces, fabulous food what more could you wish for?

We have bought a motorbike. It’s a Honda CB300, 10 years old and in immaculate condition.

We have a new condo in a new area, 15 minute walk from where we used to stay with 2 pools, gym and it’s quiet.

It’s only 5 minutes from one of the most modern malls in CM, called Maya. 7 floors of everything you might need. 3 cinemas, restaurants, every shop and brand you can think of and a supermarket called Rimping which is the Thai equivalent of Waitrose. When it’s really hot you can pop in and enjoy their amazing AC.

To try the bike out we did the ride we always enjoy, around the mountain, up to a view over the Samoeng Forest. It’s a 60 km twisty, turny round trip.

On the way back the timing was perfect to bump into our favourite animals.

We often see them at this spot. Elephants with a couple of mahouts. They beckoned us over and said do you want elephant hugs and kisses, do I ever, I was so happy.

We visited Jing Jai market, a craft, and farmers market. It was heaving with people and getting bigger every year. I’m waiting for my bestie to come and we’ll go clothes shopping can’t wait..

We went to the local outdoor car boot style market which is very entertaining mostly lots of stuff which should just go to the tip but there are little gems in there. Lots of fresh veggies, food stalls and assorted weird and wonderful items. Love it, it’s an entertaining morning out.

We have caught up with lots of friends and are delighted to be back in our second home. Just one last thing…

Sent with ❤️ from Sigrid & Chris

It’s time for the 48th Chiang Mai Flower festival and I couldn’t be happier. The city is awash with people and traffic, we slowly make our way to our favourite place to watch the parade. It’s outside a hotel, they supply free drinks and snacks, there are bathrooms, a perfect spot. It’s our favourite CM event.

It takes 4 hours for everyone in the parade to get from the train station just outside the city to their final destination in the park, inside the moat. We can hear bands playing, drums throbbing in the distance…

The floats have thousands of flowers expertly placed, it’s extraordinary

We were sat close to the end of the parade just outside the park, it was a hot day and a long walk. Everyone was very tired, the look on these girls faces says it all.

The floats park up on the inside of the moat outside the park

Inside the park are where all the flower/plant competition entries are.

The city’s gardeners have been working flat out to deck the park out with spectacular displays.

and you’ll never go hungry at any event in Thailand, a long line of food stalls. Fabulous. We’re off to the beach soon, it’s getting hot.

We are driving to the summit of Doi Inthanon, Thailands highest mountain . It’s a 100km drive with very steep climbs to the summit so we’re hiring a bigger bike. No more dawdling 2 up on an underpowered scooter willing it to get to the top, we’re going big!

We rented the bike in the city for £30 for the day. It’s a Honda 500, perfect. It’s a 60km ride to where you turn off for the mountain. It’s then 40km up to the summit. You enter the National Park it costs £8 each and a few km in you come to the first waterfall. The last time we came it was more a trickle, this time it had plenty of water. The mist as you got closer just hung in the air causing rainbows and dropping gently on our hot skin, lovely.

We approached the summit and parked. The highest spot in Thailand the sign said. I’d seen that sign already in the multitudes of weed shops on every street…

We came on this trip to go back through the Hmong tribal villages which are all over the mountain, another all time favourite bike ride and to see an old friend.

The villages are surrounded by seas of plastic poly tunnels overflowing with flowers and vegetables and lots of places to hire a tent, the Thais love camping.

Some of the growers supply all the floats for the floral decorations for the upcoming flower festival. The floral scents attack your nostrils, woody herbals and wet earthy aromas, citrus all pervading as you journey along.

We are making our way to Mae Wang, elephant country. Winding rivers meandering in the wide valleys, small hills and lots of vegetation.

The unmissable elephant smell, strong and pungent lingers briefly around every corner. We are close to our friend. It seemed busy, lots of tourist buses. We looked at the coral where she would be, it was all covered over.

A man asked what we were doing so we explained we had come to see an old friend Vissa. We hadn’t been for 3 years. The elephant camp had been merged with another camp so instead of 6 elephants there were now 16. All the staff had ‘Pon Elephant Camp’ T shirts on and walkie talkies, very professional, a lot had changed.

During Covid the elephant tourist business came to a sudden halt, no tourists no money. Some of the mahouts went back to their villages with the elephants as they couldn’t afford to feed them. They really suffered. An elephant can eat 150kg of food a day and drinks 30-50 gallons of water.

The guy in charge listened to our story, the elephant we called Vissa was actually Fa Sai, born in 2008. Her name means clear sky. He said if we took a walk to the camp base the mahouts would bring her so we could see her. We were taken to a clearing over a very wobbly bridge. There were modern little huts where you could stay overnight, the whole place had been transformed.

We chatted to a young female guide who spoke English and she told us Fa Sai was 7 months pregnant. Elephants have an 18-22 months gestation. Excited now.

Two elephants approached coming down a little hill. One was Fa Sai, bigger than I remembered and much wider around her girth. They said due to the pregnancy she was a little unpredictable and we shouldn’t get too close. They had a fun time having a mud bath. The camp are trying to turn the space into 2 rice paddy’s but the elephants keep trashing the area. We just watched them having fun throwing mud over themselves.

We will go back to see her next time we are in CM.

We did miss the bristly, snotty snorkel face kisses and the joyous times we had before but it was lovely to see her knowing she was being well looked after.

We were very grateful to everyone at the camp for accommodating us so generously. We made our way home very happy to have seen her.

It’s getting quieter in the city again after Christmas and the Chinese New Year celebrations, we can now brave the markets. There are more markets in Thailand than you can shake a stick at, in every village and town a real mainstay for every community. Not just for tourists but the locals as well, a daily coming together for everyone, love them.

Jing Jai the makers market is our favourite.

It’s only 5 minutes out of the city and is a genuine makers market with lots of independent clothing stalls, handicrafts and food stalls.

Jing Jai is held every Sunday and is a great morning out.

The city has its own Saturday and Sunday walking markets in 2 different locations within the city. It starts at 4pm and gets very crowded.

There are also local food markets liberally spread every mile or so throughout the city with fruit, vegetables and everything you could imagine to eat.

It’s fun visiting the markets, we regularly go. Next week we’re off to visit our favourite elephant Vissa near Doi Inthanon. I’m really excited, can’t wait. Hope she’s there.

More good news is that the original CM flower festival is on next weekend (8th Feb) with a big parade, floats, bands, flower and bonsai competitions and it’s back in the city in the park. My prayers have been answered I’m very happy.