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What impact are nomad communities having in places like Chiang Mai?
After my week of work in Chiang Mai, I wonder – is a Bali-esque boom and bust on the horizon?
It’s no secret that Thailand is popular with digital nomads. Interest in the Destination Thailand Visa (DTV) underscores this appeal – offering a five-year, multiple-entry visa, it surpassed 35,000 applicants when it launched last year (2025). Aimed at remote workers and location-independent professionals, the DTV offers an affordable and flexible long-term stay, making it a central pillar of Thailand’s strategy to boost tourism and strengthen its economy.
With great prices, food, weather, and landscape, Thailand does appear to have it all. But having worked from several international “nomad” hotspots in the last year, I have found myself becoming less interested in what I can get out of the places I visit, and more concerned with the impact I’m having there.
Definitions of digital nomads have changed, after all. The 2010 “stereotype” was that of a “joyful millennial working from a laptop on a beach” (Hart, 2015; Spinks, 2015). A handful of people were doing it, many of whom were bloggers, making it pretty harmless.
Now, an era of flexible working, long-term visas, and steep rents in places like Sydney and London mean people are choosing to work remotely abroad for the long haul, (coined as “slowmadism”).
Western incomes stretch further abroad, and that money benefits local economies. But academics worry there could be broader ramifications for destinations in the Global South already experiencing forms of transnational gentrification, as a result of remote workers.
Chiang Mai’s appeal might also be its downfall
Chiang Mai, a city in the northern mountains of Thailand, has attracted thousands of digital nomads in recent years. The effects of this migration are already being felt, with this case study suggesting the long-term nomad presence is reshaping neighbourhoods, increasing demand for foreign-facing businesses, and driving up rents – factors which affect both visitors and locals.
I observed some of this myself when I visited in February 2025. There’s still a ton of local food spots, of course, but it seemed that many of the cafés, services, juice bars, and co-working spaces had been created for foreigners (or those with laptops).
My lovely host in Chiang Mai
Fon, a restaurant owner, confirmed that even local food stops have “increased their prices by 5–10 Baht” since the 2020 pandemic. Whilst the minimum wage has increased slightly too, it is unclear whether it’s enough, or what the future repercussions could be over time.
What about integration? Of the nomads I met in Chiang Mai, some worked in tourism or as teachers, and others were learning Thai. Billy, an American who moved to Chiang Mai two years ago, loves his life here as a teacher. He said that despite the number of expats from Myanmar, China, and Western countries, local people still strongly embrace their mai pen rai – a “no worries” attitude – and hold tightly to their Lanna cultural identity. On the trips he’s been on, there’s just as many Thai locals as there are nomads and expats, he says.
Whilst that is reassuring, having spoken to a lot of nomads working from businesses based outside Thailand, most treated the city as a satellite office, and were there to enjoy the comfort and low costs rather than integrate into the fabric of the place. I can’t help but wonder how sustainable that is – especially given that most nomads leave in the early part of each year during “burning season” – which must affect rental competition, business, and the vibe.
Meals cost £1-3
Based on my chats with people there, part of Chiang Mai’s appeal – compared to say, the Thai islands – is that it feels more “authentic,” or at least less mediated by mass tourism. Fon is from Prachinburi, and moved here five years ago. “People from here have a strong sense of culture, pride, and local traditions,” she said. This is in part due to the highly esteemed university and active student culture.
Evening chants at Doi Suthep are popular
As more people move here to work, however – which is likely, in the wake of this visa – I suspect local businesses and authorities will keep shaping things to meet foreign interests, expectations and spending habits.
After all, nomads are not tourists in the traditional sense. They need a more fixed base, comfort, friends, places to live, reliable internet access, and familiar home comforts. I went for dinner with people from a newly launched co-living residence, for example – something that’s becoming more common, and speaks to the desire for permanence.
Another challenge that comes with growing numbers of long-term visitors, is waste management. Chiang Mai already feels stretched in terms of infrastructure, and more people inevitably means more rubbish. Bali, for example, is grappling with a well-documented waste crisis, and while I wasn’t able to investigate in depth here, this blog provides some interesting context about recycling and waste handling in Thailand.
I tried hard to minimise my footprint by carrying a Grayl water filter bottle and a foldable dog bowl for takeaway food, but the broader issue is harder to tackle. How the city will cope with more residents and their impact on waste, water, and energy systems remains to be seen. “Waste and water management have not kept up with growth,” said Fon.
Is it overcrowded already?
In terms of capacity – like I said, it already feels quite busy, and judging by comments on Reddit forums from long-term nomads, that seems to be the case. I found myself standing at traffic lights for around ten minutes in Nimman, trying to cross the road, for instance.
All the Grab drivers wore masks to protect themselves from the terrible air quality, which will surely worsen as traffic increases. Electricity wires hung about precariously, which had me wondering how much additional strain the desire for faster internet was putting on infrastructure.
According to Fon, my observations were valid. “The cost of utilities has risen dramatically,” she said. “The condition of the roads is abysmal, and there’s no real public transportation despite the demand. There are more vehicles on the roads each year as a result.”
A lot Chiang Mai is undeniably charming, and you can tell why people like it here. The Old Town is beautiful, a square of ancient walls, temples, lanterns, and slow, warm evenings. I really enjoyed my first few days staying just south of it, near Wua Lai Walking Street Market, a quieter part of town that still felt full of character.
There are some beautiful hikes nearby, and lots of stunning wats to explore – I even spent one day speaking to monks when I visited (you can read my blog about this here).
Overall though, I seemed to leave Chiang Mai with more questions than answers. It will be interesting to see how it changes over the next decade, and how the Thai government will manage the steady influx of people (or indeed, decline, if that happens). Is another Bali boom and bust on the horizon?
Dinner with a gang of travellers I befriended
Exploring the local temples
Questioning my depth at Bangkok’s Grand Palace
Had I bitten off more than I could chew?
On the third day of my first-ever trip to Asia – having started a new chapter as a “digital nomad” at 32 – I awoke full of adrenalin and ready to see some other ‘must sees’ on my list.
Equipped with snacks from the 7/11 – a backpackers’ sanctuary – I headed out toward a local market, dodging traffic at every turn.
Suddenly, whilst approaching a railway track, I noticed a curious sight. Tucked along either side were small houses beneath the Expressway, and people were crossing the tracks and disappearing from view. Where are they going? I wondered.
As I ventured further, it became clear that the place was quietly teeming with life. To my left, a family was sitting down for a meal; to my right, a man was gutting fish. It was a tiny community, living in a traffic sandwich.
Life must be loud for this community under the expressway
A fish restaurant alongside the railway track
Bangkok – home to 11.4m people – is not a place where wealth is equally distributed. To think they were wedged beneath the underpass like this, with cars and mopeds on all sides and trains cutting through (I presume), demonstrates how crammed with people it is.
Visiting the flower market
Eventually, I found myself at Pak Khlong Talat, the city’s primary flower market, tucked into the Wang Burapha Phirom subdistrict. Unlike the railway community, this one I found in Condé Nast. Because sometimes you need a little guidance!
I went in the late afternoon and watched the vendors setting up while people drifted through. Spotting yellow flowers (marigolds) everywhere, a quick Google revealed that they’re closely associated with Buddhism and the late King.
You’ll find references to the monarchy all over Bangkok, and it appears central to Thai life.
I learned how to say good morning (“sawatdee kha”) and we had a little tête-à-tête in broken English, between lots of smiling and cooing at the dogs and cats – luckily there’s only one language for cute!
Insiders say to visit the flower market at 3am
Word has it, the best time to come here is in the middle of the night, when the freshest blooms arrive. But it’s a great place to cool off during the day.
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA China Town and Khao San Road
Toward nightfall, I headed to Chinatown for some chow. What did I fancy? I asked myself manoeuvring down the stalls. Scorpions? Crickets? I was (sort of) tempted to try the edible insects but didn’t want to get sick straight away.
Scorpions, anyone?
I eventually settled on some Chinese chive cakes followed by some “kanom krok” – little coconut pancakes.
Locusts aside, if you’re vegetarian, you’ll find some decent options here, even though Asia is generally a pretty meat-heavy place.
Delicious veggie dumplings in China Town
By this point, it was getting a little late. But Bangkok buzzes at all times. Do I want to go to Khao San Road? I pondered, between mouthfalls. For the uninitiated, this is a famous street in Bangkok, known for its thriving nightlife.
I truly did not, but knew I’d regret not seeing it. It wasn’t far away, so I hopped into my first colourful – and probably overpriced – TukTuk by the market, for around £7.
The ride itself was great fun. But the strip at Khao San – not for me. I’ve always preferred to watch the Inbetweeners from behind a screen, not as a lived experience, so this was a good early lesson in trusting my instincts.
The throng of drunk bodies in the heat was overwhelming, and I took nothing from it, save cooling down in the breeze from the TukTuk.
Ever impressed by the public transport in Bangkok, I spared my lungs the Grab bike this time (although I was getting hooked on them!), and caught a bus all the way home.
Visiting the Grand Palace
By the next day, I needed some greenery.
Bangkok might look and seem like a concrete jungle, but a third of the city is parkland, and I’d vowed to visit Lumpini Park and Bang Kachao, the so-called ‘Green Lung’ of Bangkok, for a bike ride.
Unable to postpone my ‘flexible’ flight ticket to Chiang Mai, however, I panicked and decided to visit Bangkok’s famous temples instead: Grand Palace, Wat Pho and / or Wat Arun.
I really hate when tourist attractions are rammed down my throat, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the Grand Palace was a bit over-hyped. But I was in South East Asia, so it felt like an attraction I couldn’t miss.
Wat did I think of them? It’s tricky. Religious Studies was my favourite subject at school, and I resonated strongly with the story and teachings of Buddhism. As a 15 year old, it was the first religion I’d encountered that didn’t seem to be predicated on power.
I respect that they are culturally important and tried my best, in the heat, to take in the majesty of it all. But after a two hours, I was a little bored.
Not just that, but – quite unsurprisingly – the place is hugely overcrowded. They don’t show you that on TikTok or Pinterest do they!
Wat Pho is famous for the immense Reclining Buddha
Reality check at the temples – they’re crowded!
I wish I’d followed through with my first plan. Does this mean I lack depth? I thought with panic. Maybe. But who cares. Life’s short. There’s nothing wrong with chasing lizards in the park. They’re cool as hell!
Monitor lizards roam the park and canal freely
As a headache took hold, I learned my first lesson as a digital nomad: if I wanted to work and travel, I’d have to manage both my time and my energy levels properly. I was alone, in a foreign place, in a much hotter climate – that’s a lot to navigate on top of a job, and I hadn’t even got started yet.
Sitting on the flight to Chiang Mai, clutching my carry on, I wondered – had I bitten off more than I could chew?
Hiding out in Hoi An, Vietnam: two months as a nomad in Asia
I finally take a spin on those coconut boats.
After a whirlwind weekend in Ho Chi Minh City – my sixth week as a digital nomad in Asia – I took a short flight northward to the central coast of Vietnam. Having depleted my energy stocks in the capital, I was looking forward to some downtime in the cutesy, lantern-lit streets of Hội An.
Sitting about halfway up the coast of Vietnam, this ancient coastal town is popular with tourists and, like any popular location, attracts mixed feedback from nomads. From people I spoke to, most tend to go to the nearby city of Da Nang because it’s right on the beach, a little more built up, and, I suspect, offers more to people wanting to build a life out here.
Luckily though, I wasn’t planning on sticking around for long, so I could lean into being a tourist a bit. Everyone has a different goal when travelling, and the whole point of my trip was to take me out of my city comfort zone, dip my toe into nomad life, and take advantage of freelancing by seeing some of the places in the world I’d always wanted to. If that’s something you’re also considering, take a read of this blog where I talk about why I left London in early 2025.
Where I stayed
Wanting to be with other travellers, I booked a dorm bed at the adorable Saclo Hostel, where I met the loveliest bunch of people. Like most hostels I stayed at during my trip, it played host to a mix of travellers and nomads in their twenties and thirties.
We ended up doing ‘family dinners’, nights out, language lessons, co-working sessions, and simply roaming around the city together, with the help of our excellent host. There was something very restorative about falling into temporary routines with strangers after the intensity of Ho Chi Minh City, especially as I’d had such a brilliant time with the Koh Rong gang.
If you’re travelling alone (and are a bit older), I’d avoid the big-brand hostels and search for smaller ones offering activities, because it often results in a much better experience.
Is there a nomad scene?
As to whether there is a “nomad scene”, it’s hard to say because I wasn’t there long, but like I said – it’s common for remote workers in this part of the world to split their time between Chiang Mai and Da Nang, which is very close to Hoi An, so there will be some crossover.
Luckily I had met some of them in Chiang Mai, which meant I had some connections locally, and I took a day trip to Da Nang waterfalls with a group of people living in a newly opened co-living space.
There’s clearly some long-time nomads in Asia making a special effort behind the scenes to create a sense of community for remotees, which I really admire. It’s difficult moving abroad, so if this is something you plan to do, make an effort to search for those people – whether it’s via flyers, reddit, or chats over coffee – and get networking!
Cafés, co-working and coconut coffees
No matter if there’s a big scene or not, behind those lantern-lit fronts are a ton of modern bars, bistros, and cafés, which are perfect for people needing a bit of work downtime. There are loads of veggie and vegan spots too, some even built with yoga and co-working in mind. You really don’t need to pay for spenny yoga retreats when you’re in Asia – just do it yourself!
For the authentic views – try Hub Hoi An
Few things on social media are as wonderful in reality, but that can’t be said for Hub Hoi An. Set right in the middle of electric green rice paddy fields, it fosters an authentic, off-grid feeling whilst running like a proper co-working space, with all the facilities you’d need and community events to boot. I’d highly recommend coming here if you plan to stay for a while and want to make friends. Shout out to Matt for recommending it.
For slow breakfasts and laptop hours – Nourish Eatery
This place is fab for a big breakfast or brunch (think £4-5 for a hug meal). There’s a decent upstairs area for laptops and yoga during the week too (although it’s closed on Mondays).
For escaping the hustle – The Inner Hoian
Such a cute café, hidden down a side street and surrounded by lush greenery. It felt like the sort of place you accidentally spend three hours in without realising. Also has a very dangerous little gift shop if you’re a tote bag person. Very calming energy.
Where everyone settles in for the afternoon – Goodeats Hoi An
This spot is super relaxed and remote-work friendly, but I also noticed lots of families hanging out here too. One of those places where everyone seems to naturally settle in for the afternoon.
For the best iced coffee – Hoian Roastery
Home to the best iced coconut coffee I had in Vietnam, and the most accommodating manager.
Instagram reality check
Taking a bike through the paddy fields at sunrise, sampling cafés, and hunting for the best bánh mìs – this is the kind of thing that brings me joy. But like most spots in Asia, the town also offers the option of taking cooking classes, coffee-making workshops, visiting the nearby coast at Da Nang, or getting a dress or suit made (which I did do, although I’m yet to wear her).
That said, like all places in Asia, it would be remiss of me not to do the old “Instagram v reality” wake-up call. Some fun, but slightly overrated, activities for me were:
The coconut boats
I had a feeling they wouldn’t really be my thing, but I did them anyway because they’re so iconic. It’s cheap and only takes about an hour, but the whole thing does feel a bit tourist-trappy. You’re basically spun around while people sing and ask for tips. That said, the area itself is beautiful, and it’s nice to spend some time in such an important natural space.
The lantern parade
The multicoloured canal boats are pretty enough to look at, that’s for sure. But this isn’t exactly the sweet, idyllic scene you see on TikTok. It was busy, loud, and a bit chaotic, being right by the strip with all the bars and nightlife.
I also can’t help but feel that lighting lanterns is an unsustainable practice, which really put me off. Perhaps in future there can be a way to do this that is kinder for the waterways and surrounding environment, but until then, I’m unsure how I feel about it.
Despite the slightly overrated tourist-grabbing activities – which is true for any location – I found Hoi An overall, to be as cute as a button, and ended up staying for a week (though three days is probably plenty if you’re a tourist or short on time). The chaos of Ho Chi Minh City felt miles away, replaced by the hum of scooters, the cluck of chickens, and the buzz of baristas whipping up coconut coffees.
Heading there in mid-March felt like the perfect time, as we caught a slightly cooler weather window. After March and April, it gets really hot, then really rainy, before cooling down again in January and February. (Central Vietnam can also see flooding in the later months, so check conditions before you travel.) North Vietnam gets properly cold in the early part of the year too, so plan your trip with that in mind – and do not underestimate its weird weather!
Gilda girl tea: fun & food in Madrid
Is this the perfect spot for a September soiree?
This will sound conceited, but as a child, I found myself slightly bored by Spain.
I was born in the 90s, which means I’m very much a product of parents seduced by programmes like A Place in the Sun. TV at the time was obsessed with our hot neighbour, and – like a lot of people – Mum and Dad bought into the dream of becoming expats by investing in a small villa on the Costa Brava.
In reality, this meant we spent a few weeks a year visiting what was essentially a building site near Alicante. And while it was obviously a huge privilege – and I do have really fond memories of those times with my family – the trips were hardly cultural experiences. You’re not exactly getting under the skin of Spain in those expat villages, especially as every second person is English.
Fast forward a few years and I chose to study Spanish at A-level. Since then I’ve travelled a little more widely across the country and it turns out there’s a lot to love. Whilst Seville and Barcelona rank highly in my list of Spanish city breaks, in this guide, I’m making the case for its often-overlooked rival: Madrid.
My memories of Madrid as a child mostly involve avoiding the excruciating mid-summer heat. But revisiting in September last year for my friend’s hen do made realise just how great a spot it is for a shoulder-month visit.
So as the UK weather cools, here’s my guide on how to spend the perfect short spring break in the Spanish capital.
Day 1: Tapas and tortillas with a hint of history
First of all, where should you stay? Well, consider that Madrid is Spain’s biggest city, and comes in at double the size of Barcelona. It’s a busy, urban spot, but if you want a neighbourhood feel, I can advocate for an area called Lavapiés.
This is one of the city’s most characterful neighbourhoods; full of street art, independent cafés and, importantly, pockets of shade. I felt relatively safe there, although I would advise being vigilant at night (I usually check reddit for information about local safety!).
Start your trip early by grabbing coffee and pastries from one of the local favourites such as Nomade Café or Hola Coffee, and enjoy the gorgeous murals.
Then, from Lavapiés, take a 20–25 minute walk (or a short bus ride) into the historic centre.
Head towards the Royal Palace of Madrid, passing through Plaza de Oriente on the way. This area feels like the “classic” Madrid you see in photos, and is nice for a little walk and photo snapping before the heat of the day sets in; I didn’t go inside the museum, but you can do so if you want (if you later join a walking tour, they’ll likely cover the history).
For lunch, escape the heat and go in search of tortillas. Not the Mexican flatbread version, but the Spanish kind: thick, eggy, and often slightly gooey in the middle. I liked La Martinuca for its different variations (best enjoyed sitting inside), or Pez Tortilla on Calle de Espoz y Mina for somewhere more chaotic and buzzy; lots of locals crowded around standing tables.
In the afternoon, ease into some culture at Museo Reina Sofía. If you time it right (after 4pm), entry is free, so head over at 3 to join the queue (perhaps with a beer in hand); this is an easy way to add something “cultural” without overcommitting your day.
As evening sets in, lean into Madrid’s slightly chaotic energy by stopping for sangria and tapas at El Tigre or La Torre del Oro. These are traditional pubs known for generous – and borderline excessive – free food with drinks. You’ll be able to stuff your face and get a bit drunk as the heat cools.
Teeter back towards Lavapiés, and reload on those calories with some more local snacks. If you’re alone or in a couple, grab a table at Bar Melos and try the croquetas.
Day 2: All the art & a gilda girl tea
Start your second day in the heart of historic Madrid. Book yourself a walking tour from Plaza Mayor, and build in thirty minutes to enjoy the traditional square earlier in the day before it gets too crowded.
From here, take a 5-minute walk to the covered food market, Mercado de San Miguel. While this is not the cheapest spot in the city, it’s perfect for a grazing-style lunch; think gildas, croquetas, mini burgers, and a glass of something cold. My friend and I had great fun perusing the different stalls and oggling the giant fish.
Then, stop at Chocolatería San Ginés just outside for churros and thick hot chocolate.
In the afternoon, head to either Museo del Prado or Reina Sofía, whichever you missed yesterday. They’re about a 20-minute walk from Plaza Mayor, or a quick metro ride if it’s hot.
Trying to do both in one day is ambitious and, honestly, unnecessary. I personally loved the Museo del Prado for its classical and religious works, from Velázquez to Goya; they really give you a sense of Spain’s artistic heritage. Reina Sofía, on the other hand, was a joy because of its surrealist highlights; Dali, Miró, and Picasso really get the mind going!
Afterwards, what else – but more booze and food! Near the museum, there’s a cute side street with food stalls, including a place called La Consentida, where I enjoyed a happy hour washing an eclectic mix of gildas down with some rosé. This is a wonderful classic tapa, composed of a pickled Guindilla pepper, a salty anchovy fillet, and a green Manzanilla olive on a stick.
On the way back, detour to La Pizzateca for a pizza slice; once in Lavapiés, finish with ice cream from Gelato Artesanal.
Practical tips: Museums are free after 4pm (Reina Sofía) and 6pm (Prado Wed-Sat), so plan accordingly; weekdays are less crowded than weekends.
Day 3: Pastries and park walks
By day three, you might feel a little full and want to slow down, especially if you have a flight to catch.
Begin, again, with coffee in Lavapiés. I advocate for pastries from Acid Café, but there’s a lot of cute places to sit down, too. If you want to stay in the area, I’d recommend reading this article for a full list of things to do.
Eventually, make your way towards El Retiro Park near the Ibiza neighbourhood. Depending on where you’re starting, it’s roughly a 20–30 minute walk from the centre and worth doing on foot if you can.
Ibiza is a busy spot, but good for more local eateries. I stumbled upon Parador del Jamón, known for traditional sandwiches (less useful if you’re vegetarian, but very “Madrid”), and there are plenty of other casual spots around.
Retiro is where Madrid softens; tree-lined paths, rowboats, people reading in the shade – it’s less about sightseeing and more about just being there. Bring snacks, something to drink, and take your time. I was alone for this part of my trip, so put a podcast in, but it’s also lovely for a read in the sunshine. It’s a nice place to visit at golden hour.
Following your park walk, settle down somewhere nearby for more tapas and Sangria. If you’re back in Lavapies, grab a table outside La Inquilina for wine and some delicious gildas.
If you’re working remotely…
If you’re mixing travel with work (like I am), Madrid makes it easy. I liked La Bicicleta Café and Federal Café as relaxed spots to spend a few hours; good coffee, good atmosphere, and no pressure to rush. Be aware though, that lots of cafes in Lavapiés do not allow laptops.
Overall – Madrid is a feast for the mind and stomach
Madrid can even feel a little overwhelming due to its pace and scale, especially compared to smaller Spanish cities. But don’t write it off for a mini break. Give it a couple of days – wander a bit, eat well, sit in the sun – and it starts to click. And once it does, it’s very easy to see why people keep coming back.
If you’re looking for more Spring time city break ideas, why not read my piece about Copenhagen.
Can you watch Netflix? Lessons from my Chiang Mai “Monk Chat” experience
It’s what the people want to know, right?
Whether it was a war, invasion, or act of terror, ideological conflicts dominated the news agenda when I was in school. Keen to understand more, I took Religious Studies to A level, studying the world’s major faiths in relative depth.
At their core, they share similar moral frameworks. But between the lack of wars, focus on selflessness and preservation of animal life, Buddhism was the easiest one to actively “lean into” (and – critically – didn’t involve worshipping some bloke).
So when I visited Thailand earlier this year to experience life as a digital nomad, I was excited to hear that you can book time to speak to monks there, as part of a nationwide scheme called “Monk Chat“.
How prevalent is Buddhism in Thailand?
With a temple around every corner, it’s not hard to see that Buddhism is still the dominant religion in Thailand. The country is home to around 200,000 monks and 85,000 novices at most times of the year, according to Buddhanet.
Strikingly for me, is the fact that most Thai men ordain at least once in their lives. They’ll typically join a wat (monastery) before starting work or university – sometimes even returning mid way through life – and can leave, or rejoin, whenever they want. Like spiritual rehab.
If you’re interested in why (and perhaps what the effect of this is) take a look at this article.
The “Monk Chat” scheme specifically, allows people to learn how monastic life shapes Thai society, in exchange for a bit of English language practice. Chiang Mai – in the North – is considered the centre of the movement, so I booked a half-day meditation retreat at Wat Suan Dok, in the centre of the old town, when I visited last February.
Introduction to Buddhism
After a quick cup of tea, our teacher, the head monk, began by outlining the basic history and core principles of Buddhism.
A lot of people assume Buddhists worship Buddha, but that is not true. They do not worship a creator God or idol – not even the Buddha himself, although his journey toward enlightenment, and teaching of Nirvana, is central to the philosophy.
Instead, Buddhism is better understood as a practice rather than a belief-based religion. “Train against doing bad; train to do good; and train to purify the mind,” he wrote on the whiteboard, summarising its ethical framework. Simple, right?
It’s all about balance
As to how much of this the average Thai person follows, I’m not sure. But it’s widely understood that 90% of the population define themselves as Buddhist, and pay close attention to the main principles.
Meditation specifically, our teacher explained, is a tool for observing and regulating emotional responses, helping practitioners return to these principles rather than act against them in moments of difficulty.
We then had a go at this ourselves – sitting for no less than 40 minutes – as he guided us through a seated meditation. I’ve always found meditation easier in a group, and after an emotionally charged first ten days of travel, the enforced stillness provided a rare opportunity to switch off.
Question time
Following this introduction, there was a group Q&A where you’re allowed to speak to the junior monks. I’ve been looking forward to this the most because I was genuinely interested in their way of life.
Can you watch Netflix? Can you discuss the news? Play video games in your spare time? We found ourselves asking.
I really wanted to understand what their habitual lives are like – especially at a novice level – as well as the role that monks play in the community. If I compare to the UK, for example, the Church is very active, and runs sort of like a charity / business. And who could forget the Benedictine’s at Buckfast Abbey? They’re making booze!
We didn’t get far with these questions. Our hosts were happy to talk about the importance of meditation but overall, I felt there was a slightly missed opportunity to understand the social contribution that monks make in the modern age.
But I guess it’s not their job to explain some of this, and we wanted to be respectful. There was also a language barrier, which is fair and understandable.
What about the women?
We did make headway on the topic of female monks (nuns), which felt significant, because they are not officially recognised by the state.
According to a 2019 article I read in Reuters, though, more Thai Buddhist women are seeking to become full-fledged “bhikkunis”, or female monks, by getting ordained overseas, usually in Sri Lanka or India.
Our companion clearly viewed these women as legitimate, but explained that nuns are required to follow 311 rules, compared with 227 for their male counterparts. This distinction comes from the Vinaya Pitaka – specifically the Pāṭimokkha – which sets out the monastic code of conduct. Like the men, women shave their heads and eyebrows upon ordination.
This interview on the topic expands on why this is, and how this landscape is shifting. I’ve also added some videos from the sessions on my instagram (@womanmeetsw0rld).
Is it worth attending?
If you’re curious to understand Buddhism and meditation at a surface level, I’d absolutely recommend trying Monk Chat whilst in Chiang Mai.
I’m interested in religious teachings and philosophies without any real intention to practise, so this half-day experience suited me well – though more in-depth meditation retreats are available for those looking to go deeper.
It’s a donation-based scheme offered at numerous temples across Thailand, and I imagine each one feels slightly different: some more open and modern, others more structured and traditional.
It was a genuinely enjoyable thing to do in Chiang Mai, and even if the session felt a little too focused on meditation for me personally, I found myself reflecting deeply on the topics covered afterwards.
It’s not a bad way to spend a day off from work, is it?
Trapped by traffic in Nimman, Chiang Mai
How a day with Australia’s wildlife reminded me what it means to belong
As my trip draws to a close, my thoughts turn towards home.
“Oh my God. I want one!”
I was in Australia, arm in arm with my friend (and now expat) Becca.
Becca, like a lot of Londoners, committed the ultimate friend betrayal by moving to Australia in 2023.
Having finally forgiven her, we now found ourselves cooing over koalas at Moonlit Sanctuary, an award-winning wildlife park located 50 minutes southeast of Melbourne’s CB, following a fun filled weekend in Sydney’s Blue Mountains.
A long awaited trip
I’d always wanted to visit Australia. Every single member of my family had either lived or travelled here, and as an 18-year-old I’d mentally planned an entire gap year on the other side of the world, that I was too scared and too broke to execute it.
Just as the desperate migrants romanticised California in The Grapes of Wrath, Australia seems to have a kind of “heaven on earth” appeal for us intrepid Europeans. And more than a decade later, it felt thrilling to be standing on Ozzy soil, ready to wrap up a three-month stint as a digital nomad in Asia.
But where were the crocs?
Perhaps I’d gone a bit feral from all those weird nights in hostels, but Sydney itself hadn’t thrilled me – and when we reunited in Melbourne after a short hiatus, I was itching to get back into nature.
Half expecting to see crocs, snakes and spiders the minute I stepped off the plane, it was a little disenchanting to be surrounded by buses and McDonald’s; so, we decided to book a day trip South to see some of the country’s most dangerous animals – koala bears, wallabies and penguins.
Moonlit Sanctuary is an award-winning wildlife park in Melbourne
After several fun, but somewhat exhausting, months on the road as a digital nomad, I was ready for a cuddle; and luckily our first stop was Moonlit Sanctuary, a wildlife conservation park in Victoria focused on endangered native species breeding, education, and immersive visitor experiences.
Sadly, these adorable teddy-like creatures are not for handling, but looking up at the canopies of the sanctuary, it felt incredibly special to see koala bears in the flesh, even if they were simply napping.
After much pst psttting, and a short interaction with a wallaby (sort of like a tiny kangaroo), we then drove further South toward “The Nobbies”.
I wasn’t sure what to expect at the other end, and was surprised to learn that this is in fact a dramatic, and very beautiful clifftop area on Phillip Island – not dissimilar to Cornwall, I might add.
Leave it to the Aussies to call an area of outstanding natural beauty “the Nobbies”
It’s a great place to catch sea life apparently, and whilst we didn’t spoke any whales or seals, we had something special waiting for us down at the beach at dusk – the Penguin Parade.
Settling down for the Penguin Parade
This is a precious natural phenomenon where hundreds of tiny little penguins spend the day feeding at sea before returning to shore at sunset – all at the same time.
We passed an hour or two on the beach with our hot chocolates, watching the waves and wondering when the first penguins would appear.
It was a bitter evening, and as our steaming drinks began to cool, I wondered if the penguins had lost their way back.
But lo! Just as the light faded – a couple of tiny heads popped up over the water. Then a dozen, then a hundred. The birds, it turned out, were more organised than Becca and I had ever been in our lives. They had been waiting for darkness so that they could travel in safety.
Once on shore, the tiny creatures waited for their friends to arrive – preferring to travel in big groups – before panic-waddling up the beach to their burrows. Above their head, birds of prey circulated, observing the scene and braced to pounce on stragglers.
Luckily for us, there were no fatalities and all the penguins successfully scurried over the sand, before disappearing into the dunes, safe at home for another night.
Wherever you go, there you are
It was an adorable scene – somewhat similar to seeing the lollipop lady gather the children before crossing the road. And after three months of travel, watching the little birds shuffle back to a place of safety and familiarity felt particularly moving.
I didn’t know how this nomad experiment would go, or for how long I’d be able to sustain life on the road, having never backpacked this long alone before. But I had noticed by this point that I was struggling to stay present, due to anxieties about the future.
I knew by now that I wanted to remain “nomadic” – but what that looked like in practice, I wasn’t sure. Thoughts were turning toward commitments at home; decisions about where I wanted to be and what I wanted to do could no longer be put off; and after weeks of hostels, airports and constantly being on the move, even daily decision making was difficult.
I believe this is a scenario that many people on the road find themselves in. On my route, I met lots of people who seemed to be avoiding problems they were having at home, processing something, or just generally lost and dissatisfied with life.
I don’t know if travelling is the right way to deal with those things or not. But as they say “wherever you go, there you are”. At some point you’ll have to confront internal or external challenges, or at least seek support from someone you know – whether that’s a local support network, or someone from home.
Having Becca there to take some of the weight off my shoulders reminded me that even the most independent travellers need help sometimes.
And, like the penguins making their way back to shore at dusk, I felt ready to call time on my adventure and head home too – but not before seeing Singapore.
*If you want to visit Philip Island, can either drive over yourself or take a full-day trip, which cost us around £70 including return travel from Melbourne. We also had a lovely guide who was funny, knowledgeable and genuinely passionate about the animals, which made the experience even better.*
