a blaze in the northern sky

As I alluded to in my last post, when we were in Vang Vieng in Laos, we lost an email regarding a hotel reservation in Thailand. The reservation was in a Northern city called Sukhothai, and it was from November 23 to 25, which is when the city was holding its annual celebration of the Loi Krathong festival, also known as the Yi Peng festival or "the festival of lights." Since we couldn't find our reservation info and since hotels are booked up well in advance over the festival dates, we had given up on seeing the fest and instead extended our stay in Laos, scheduling our flight back to Chiang Mai for the 23rd. Then we relocated the email, but now it was too late - we tried desperately to figure out a way to get from Vang Vieng to Sukhothai in time for Loi Krathong but without any success. Resigning ourselves to returning and staying in Chiang Mai then, we contacted the guesthouse, the Trigong Residence, where we'd stayed our first time there; the proprietor emailed Maya back explaining that he was all booked up and that finding a place to stay over the dates of fest, which, it turns out, is also celebrated in a big way in Chiang Mai, would be very hard. He added, however, that if we really needed it, he would try to help - but we didn't expect much. We began to formulate contingency plans for returning to fucking Bangkok, the city that had so royally kicked our collective ass the first time we stayed there. As it turns out, the owner of the Trigong, going way beyond the call of duty, actually did email us back in a few days, saying that we were all good, he'd booked a place for us to stay!

So, on Friday, we flew back from Luang Prabang to Chiang Mai just in time for the start of the festival, which, let me tell you, was pretty fucking insane. Basically, the whole 3 days - actually, mostly the nights - are a pyromaniac's wet dream. First, there are the krathongs, little floats about a handspan in diameter made from a section of banana tree trunk and decorated with elaborately-folded banana leaves, flowers, candles, incense sticks, etc. During the festival, everyone buys one from vendors lining the streets, lights the candles and incense on them, and lets them go in the Ping river, which runs through Chiang Mai, until the water is full of flickering trails of light. Couples often float two krathongs together, which is apparently considered quite romantic by locals, so that's just what Maya and I did.

Second, there are the Saa lanterns, rice-paper lanterns-cum-hot air balloons that Maya and I first saw in the skies of Beijing. Vendors are selling these everywhere, too, and everyone is buying them (some of them are massive, even bigger than the folks purchasing them), lighting them up in the streets, and sending them airborn, creating a truly surreal sight: a night sky filled with constellations of slowly drifting orange flame (some of the lanterns also have fireworks attached to their bottoms, so they drop a trail of sparks beneath them as they fly). But not all of the lanterns make it that high - some are blown into nearby trees, where they burn themselves out; others aren't filled with enough hot air by the time they are let go and fall lazily back to the earth like lethargic comets. Maya and I, fortunately, had both the skill and the patience to successfully launch the two balloons we bought into the sky. Some say that the Yi Peng festival evolved from the Brahmin belief of floating away evil - if so, we floated whatever bad vibes surrounded us so far, far away that they turned into stars in the heavens.

Finally, there are all the fireworks and firecrackers. These, in every imaginable form, are also being sold by a gazillion roadside vendors, and everyone - but most kids and teenagers - are setting them off in the streets and over the river deep into the night. Sometimes it literally feels like you're in the middle of a warzone as you walk through the city, as explosions flash and loud cracks resound all around you, dangerously close, sometimes right under your feet or over your head. Nowhere did we feel like this more than when on the last, climactic night of the festival, we went on a dinner cruise on the Ping river, a boat ride that, though the food was ridiculously good - I had honey-roasted spareribs with som tam (Thai green papaya salad); Maya had crispy fried mushrooms with kaffir lime leaves and tom kah gai (Thai coconut-milk soup) - was the least romantic cruise we've ever been on. It felt more like riding on the boat in Apocalypse Now, down a river into the heart of darkness. Everyone on the banks seemed to be setting off fireworks or tossing firecrackers, all into the center of the river, as if the opposite shores were at battle and we, on the boat, were stuck in the middle. More than a few fireworks actually hit our vessel, a few exploding right against the side where Maya and I sat! By the time, we and the maybe 14 other passengers disembarked, we were all literally feeling a little shellshocked and more than a little relieved.

Add to the krathongs, the flying lanterns, and the fireworks, endless food stands, bands playing, Thai dancing and drumming competitions, parades on land and on the river, probably the biggest bazaar we've been to so far on this trip, and a square filled with lanterns (of the non-flying variety) and even trees made of lanterns (one of which, Maya and I are standing in front of below). Like I said, fucking insane.

As if the fest weren't action-packed enough, on Sunday Maya and I spent our afternoon, riding ATVs - through the jungle, past water buffalos and ginormous white, humped cows, by mysterious, massive clay jars sitting in banana-tree groves - and shooting guns at the Chiang Mai shooting range. Here I am blasting my Glock.

Maya, with her little .22.

And Maya again, with her very big sniper rifle!

Somehow it just seemed like a fitting way for us to celebrate Loi Krathong.